The young Es-Dek, thinking that Trirodov felt offended at her reference to his acquaintance, added affectedly: “You know him well; then please pardon me.” “I don’t know his present condition,” put in Trirodov. “Everything is possible.” “It’s impossible to be responsible for all chance acquaintances!” interpolated Rameyev. Trirodov turned to Piotr: “And what did he say about me?” But his voice did not express any especial curiosity. Piotr replied with a sarcastic smile: “He said very little, but asked a great deal. He said that you knew him very well. In any case, I soon left.” “Yes, I have known him a long time,” was Trirodov’s calm answer. “Perhaps not too well, yet I know him. I had some dealings with him.” “I think he paid you a visit yesterday?” “Yes,” said Trirodov in reply to Elisaveta’s question, “he came to see me last evening, quite late. I don’t know why he chose such a late hour. He asked assistance. His demands were large. I will give him what I can. He’s going away from here.” All this was said in jerks, unwillingly. No one seemed to care to continue the subject further, but at this moment, quite unexpectedly to all, Kirsha entered into the conversation. He went up to his father and said in a quiet but audible voice: “He purposely came late, while I slept, so that I shouldn’t see him. But I remember him. When I was very little he used to show me dreadful tricks. I don’t remember them now. I can only remember that I used to get frightened and that I cried.” All looked in astonishment at Kirsha, exchanged glances and smiled. “You must have seen it in a dream, Kirsha,” said Trirodov--quietly. Then, turning to the older people: “Boys of his age love fantastic tales. Even we love Utopia and read Wells. The very life which we are now creating is a joining, as it were, of real existence with fantastic and Utopian elements. Take, for example, this affair of....” In this manner Trirodov interrupted the conversation about Ostrov and changed it to another subject that was agitating all circles at the time. He left very soon after that. The others also stayed but a short time. There was an atmosphere of irritation and hostility after the guests had gone. Rameyev reproached Piotr. “My dear Petya, you shouldn’t have done that. It isn’t hospitable. You were looking all the time at Trirodov as if you were getting ready to send him to all the devils.” Piotr replied with a controlled gruffness: “Yes, precisely, to all the devils. You have guessed my feelings, uncle.” Rameyev eyed him incredulously and said: “Why, my dear fellow?” “Why?” repeated Piotr, giving free rein to his irritation. “What is he? A charlatan? A visionary? A magician? Is he in partnership with some unclean power? What do you think of it? Or is it the devil himself come in a human shape--a little grey, cloven-hoofed demon?” “That’s enough, Petya; what are you saying?” said Rameyev with annoyance.