that same moment, in other spots on earth, life was seething, bustling, roaring; here the same life was flowing on inaudibly, like water amid marsh-grass; and until the very evening, Lavretzky could not tear himself from the contemplation of that life fleeting, flowing onward; grief for the past melted in his soul like snows of springtime,--and, strange to say!--never had the feeling of his native land been so deep and strong within him. ----- [9] This plant bears round seed-pods of mottled-grey, which are often used to make very pretty rosaries.--Translator. XXI In the course of a fortnight, Feodor Ivanitch brought Glafira Petrovna's little house into order; cleaned up the yard, the garden; comfortable furniture was brought to him from Lavriki, wine, books, newspapers from the town; horses made their appearance in the stables; in a word, Feodor Ivanitch provided himself with everything that was necessary and began to live--not exactly like a country squire, nor yet exactly like a recluse. His days passed monotonously, but he was not bored, although he saw no one; he occupied himself diligently and attentively with the farming operations, he rode about the neighbourhood on horseback, he read. He read but little, however: it was more agreeable for him to listen to the tales of old Anton. As a rule, Lavretzky would seat himself with a pipe of tobacco and a cup of cold tea near the window; Anton would stand near the door, with his hands clasped behind him, and begin his leisurely stories of olden times,--of those fabulous times--when the oats and barley were sold not by measures but by huge sacks, at two or three kopeks the sack; when in all directions, even close to the town, stretched impenetrable forests, untouched steppes. "And now," wailed the old man, who was already over eighty years of age:--"they have felled and ploughed up everything until there is no place to drive through." Anton, also, related many things concerning his mistress Glafira Petrovna: how sagacious and economical she had been; how a certain gentleman, a youthful neighbour, had attempted to gain her good-will, had taken to calling frequently,--and how she had been pleased, for his benefit, even to don her cap with rose-purple ribbons, and her yellow gown of tru-tru levantine; but how, later on, having flown into a rage with her neighbour, on account of the unseemly question: "What might your capital amount to, madam?" she had given orders that he should not be admitted, and how she had then commanded, that everything, down to the very smallest scrap, should be given to Feodor Ivanitch after her death. And, in fact, Lavretzky found all his aunt's effects intact, not excepting the festival cap, with the rose-purple ribbons, and the gown of yellow tru-tru levantine. The ancient papers and curious documents, which Lavretzky had counted upon, proved not to exist, with