On the Eve

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Excerpt: ...Shubin's as fine as a butterfly, and admires his own finery; which butterflies don't do. But both Shubin and Andrei Petrovitch. I know what I mean. '. He enjoys coming to us, I see that. But why? what does he find in me? It's true our tastes are alike; he and I, both of us don't care for poetry; neither of us knows anything of art. But how much better he is than I! He is calm, I am in perpetual excitement; he has chosen his path, his aim-while I-where am I going? where is my home? He is calm, but all his thoughts are far away. The time will come, and he will leave us for ever, will go home, there over the sea. Well? God grant he may! Any way I shall be glad that I knew him, while he was here. 'Why isn't he a Russian? No, he could not be Russian. 'Mamma too likes him; she says: an unassuming young man. Dear mamma! She does not understand him. Paul says nothing; he guessed I didn't like his hints, but he's jealous of him. Spiteful boy! And what right has he? Did I ever. All that's nonsense! What makes all that come into my head? '. Isn't it strange though, that up till now, up to twenty, I have never loved any one! I believe that the reason why D.'s (I shall call him D.-I like that name Dmitri) soul is so clear, is that he is entirely given up to his work, his ideal. What has he to trouble about? When any one has utterly. utterly. given himself up, he has little sorrow, he is not responsible for anything. It's not I want, but it wants. By the way, he and I both love the same flowers. I picked a rose this morning, one leaf fell, he picked it up. I gave him the whole rose. '. D. often comes to us. Yesterday he spent the whole evening. He wants to teach me Bulgarian. I feel happy with him, quite at home, more than at home. '. The days fly past. I am happy, and somehow discontent and I am thankful to God, and tears are not far off. Oh these hot bright days! '. I am still light-hearted as before, and only at times, and only a little,...