The soft noise of wheels over a sandy road grew closer and closer. At last a light trap, drawn by a horse in English harness, could be seen turning into the alley of birches and stopping before the house. The sisters rose nervously. Their faces wore their habitually pleasant smiles and their hands did not tremble. Trirodov gave the reins to Kirsha, who drove away. The meeting proved an embarrassing one. The sisters’ agitation was evident in their polite, empty phrases. They entered the drawing-room. Presently Rameyev, accompanied by the Matov brothers, came in to welcome the guest. There was the usual exchange of compliments, of meaningless phrases--as everywhere, as always. Piotr was uneasy and hostile. He spoke abruptly and with evident unwillingness. Misha looked on with curiosity. He liked Trirodov--he had already heard something about him which assured pleasant relations between them. The conversation developed rapidly and politely. Not a word was said about the sisters’ visit to Trirodov. “We’ve heard a great deal about you,” began Rameyev, “I’m glad to know you.” Trirodov smiled, and his smile seemed slightly derisive. Elisaveta remarked: “I suppose you think our being glad to see you merely a polite phrase.” There was sharpness in her voice. Elisaveta, realizing this, suddenly flushed. Rameyev looked at her in astonishment. “No, I don’t think that,” put in Trirodov. “There’s real pleasure in meeting.” “That’s the usual thing to say in polite society,” said Piotr quietly. Trirodov glanced at him with a smile and turned to Rameyev. “I say it in all sincerity, I am glad to have made your acquaintance. I live very much alone and so am all the more glad of the fortunate circumstance that has brought me here on a matter of business.” “Business?” asked Rameyev in astonishment. “I can put the matter in a few words,” said Trirodov. “I wish to extend my estate.” There was a tinge of sadness in Rameyev’s answer: “You have bought the better part of the Prosianiya Meadows.” Trirodov said: “It’s not quite large enough. I should like to acquire the rest of it--for my colony.” “I shouldn’t like to let the rest go,” remarked Rameyev. “It belongs to Piotr and Misha.” “As far as it concerns me,” put in Piotr, “I’d sell my share with the greatest pleasure before those ‘comrade’ fellows take it from me for nothing.” Misha was silent, but it was evident that the thought of selling his native soil was distasteful to him. He seemed on the point of bursting into tears. “In my opinion,” observed Rameyev, “the land needn’t be sold. I shouldn’t advise it. I wouldn’t think of selling Misha’s share until he came of age--and I shouldn’t advise you to sell yours either, Piotr.” Misha, gladdened, glanced gratefully at Rameyev, who continued: “I can direct you to another plot of land which happens to be on sale. I hope it will suit your needs.” Trirodov thanked him. His educational institution now became the topic of conversation.