“As for that,” said Rameyev, “you are not limited to choosing a charming wife from among my daughters.” “That’s not so easy,” said Piotr with dejected irony. “But I see no need of insisting. Besides, the same thing might happen with Elena. She might come across a more brilliant match. And there are not a few charlatans in this world of the Trirodov brand.” “Elena loves you,” said Rameyev. “Surely you have noticed it?” Piotr laughed. He assumed a gaiety--or did he actually feel gay and joyous at the sudden thought of the charming Elena? Of course she loved him! But he asked: “Why do you think, my dear uncle, that I need a wife at all costs? May God be with her!” “You are in love generally, as is common in your years,” said Rameyev. “Perhaps,” said Piotr, “but Elisaveta’s choice revolts me.” “Why should it?” asked Rameyev. “For many reasons,” replied Piotr. “For one thing, he presented her with a photograph of his dead wife, a naked beauty. Why? Is it right to make universal that which is intimate?[27] She revealed her body to her husband, and not for Elisaveta and for us.” “You would do away with many fine pictures if you had your way,” said Rameyev. “I am not so simple as not to be able to make a distinction,” replied Piotr animatedly. “In the one case it is pure art, always sacred; in the other there is an effort to inflame the feelings with pornographic pictures. And don’t you notice it yourself, uncle, that Elisaveta has poisoned herself with this sweet poison, and has become terribly passionate and insufficiently modest?” “I do not find this at all,” said Rameyev dryly. “She is in love--so what’s to be done? If there is sensuality in people, what is to be done with nature? Shall the whole world be maimed in order to gratify a decrepit morality?” “Uncle, I did not suspect you of being such an amoralist,” said Piotr in vexation. “There is morality and morality,” replied Rameyev, not without some confusion. “I do not uphold depravity, but nevertheless demand freedom of thought and feeling. A free feeling is always innocent.” “And what will you say of those naked girls in his woods--is that also innocent?” asked Piotr rather spitefully. “Of course,” replied Rameyev. “His problem is to lull to sleep the beast in man, and to awaken the man.” “I have heard his discourses,” said Piotr, showing his annoyance, “and I do not believe them in the slightest. I’m only astonished that others can believe such nonsense. And I don’t believe either in his poetry or in his chemistry. He has too many secrets and mysteries, too many cunning mechanisms in his doors and his corridors. Then there are his quiet children--that I do not understand at all. Where have they come from? What does he do with them? There is something nasty behind it all.” “That’s a work of the imagination,” answered Rameyev. “We see him often, we can always go to him, and we haven’t seen or heard anything in his house or in his colony to confirm the town tattle about him.”