The tree-tops in the garden shivered, and Lunev felt as though he had left the ground, and were floating out there in the cold twilight.
"Ilya Jakovlevitch, will you have your tea?"
"No," answered Ilya.
The solemn note of a bell resounded through the air. The deep tone made the window panes quiver. Ilya crossed himself, remembered that it was long since he had been to church, and seized the occasion to get away from the house.
"I'm going to evening service," he called as he went out.
Tatiana stood in the doorway, her hands against the door-posts, and looked curiously at him. Her inquiring glance confused Ilya, and as if excusing himself, he said:
"I haven't been to church for ever so long."
"Very well. I'll get the samovar ready by nine o'clock," she replied.
As he went, Lunev thought of young Ananyin. He knew the man; he was a rich young merchant, partner in fish business—Ananyin Brothers—a thin, fair young man, with a pale face and blue eyes. He had but recently come to the town and lived there at a great pace.
"That is really living," thought Ilya bitterly, "like a rich young man does—hardly out of the nest before he gets a mate for himself."