“Not at all!” answered Trirodov. “Wasn’t Boris Godunov a Christian? That’s not the point at issue. All the same, we and the Catholics of Western Europe have regarded each other as heretics; and our empire might have become a universal one. Even if they had counted us among the yellow race, it should be remembered that the yellow race might have been considered under the circumstances quite noble and the yellow skin a very elegant thing.” “You are developing a strange Mongolian paradox,” said Piotr contemptuously. “Even now,” retorted Trirodov, “we are looked upon by the rest of Europe as almost Mongols, as a race mixed with Mongolian elements. You know the saying: ‘Scratch a Russian and you will find a Tartar.’” A discussion arose which continued until they left the table. Piotr Matov was very much out of sorts during the entire dinner. He found almost nothing to say to his neighbour, a young girl, a dark-eyed, dark-haired beauty, an Es-Dek. And the handsome Es-Dek began to turn more and more towards the diner on the other side of her, the priest Zakrasin. He belonged to the Cadets, but was nearer to her in his convictions than the Octobrist[13] Matov. Piotr was displeased because Elisaveta paid no attention to him and appeared to be absorbed in Trirodov and in what he was saying; and it vexed him because Elena also now and then let her softened gaze rest upon Trirodov. He felt he wanted to say provoking things to Trirodov. “Yet he is a guest,” reflected Piotr to himself, but at last he could hold out no longer; he felt that he must in one way or another shake Trirodov’s self-assurance. Piotr walked up to him and, swaying before him on his long thin legs, remarked, without almost the slightest effort to conceal his animosity: “Some days ago on the pier a stranger made inquiries about you. Kerbakh and Zherbenev were talking nonsense, and he sat down near them and seemed very interested in you.” “Rather flattering,” said Trirodov unwillingly. “I cannot say to what an extent it is flattering,” said Piotr maliciously. “In my opinion there was little to recommend him. His appearance was rather suspicious--that of a ragamuffin, in fact. Though he insists he’s an actor, I have my doubts. He says you are old friends. A most insolent fellow.” Trirodov smiled. Elisaveta remarked with some agitation: “We met him some days ago not far from your house.” “It’s quite a lonely place,” observed Trirodov in an uncertain voice. Piotr went on to describe him. “Yes, that’s the actor Ostrov,” assented Trirodov. Elisaveta, feeling a strange unrest, put in: “He seemed to have gone around the neighbourhood looking about and asking questions. I wonder what he can be up to.” “Evidently a spy,” said the young Es-Dek contemptuously. Trirodov, without expressing the slightest astonishment, remarked: “Do you think so? It’s possible. I really don’t know. I haven’t seen him for five years now.”