“‘Oh Volga, proudest of rivers, Stem thy hurrying flood; Oh Volga, hearken, hearken, To the ringing song of the poet, The unknown, whose life thou hast spared.’” “Don’t be vexed with me, Borushka,” cried Tatiana Markovna, “but I think you are mad. What have you done with the papers I sent you? Have you brought them?” “Where are they?” she continued, as he shook his head. “Granny, I tore up all the accounts, and I swear I will do the same with these if you worry me with them.” He seized the paper, but she snatched them away, exclaiming, “You dare to tear up my accounts.” He laughed, suddenly embraced her, and kissed her lips as he had done when he was a child. She shook herself free and wiped her mouth. “I toil till midnight, adding up and writing down every kopek, and he tears up my work. That is why you never wrote about money matters, gave any orders, made any preparations, or did anything of the kind. Did you never think of your estate?” “Not at all, Granny. I forgot all about it. If I thought at all I thought of these rooms in which lives the only woman who loves me and is loved by me, you alone in the whole world. And now,” he said, turning to Marfinka, “I want to win my sisters too.” His aunt took off her spectacles and gazed at him. “In all my days I have never seen anything like it,” she said. “Here the only person with no roots like that is Markushka.” “What sort of person is this Markushka. Leonti Koslov writes about him. How is Leonti, Granny? I must look him up.” “How should he be? He crouches in one spot with a book, and his wife in another. But he does not even see what goes on under his nose, and can any good come from his friendship with this Markushka. Only the other day your friend came here to complain that that Markushka was destroying books from your library. You know, don’t you, that the library from the old house has been installed in Koslov’s house?” Raisky hummed an air from _“Il Barbiere.”_ “You are an extraordinary man,” cried his aunt angrily. “Why did you come at all? Do talk sensibly.” “I came to see you, Granny, to live here for a little while, to breathe freely, to look out over the Volga, to write, to draw....” “But the estate? If you are not tired we will drive out into the field, to look at the sowing of the winter-corn.” “Later on, Granny.” “Will you take over the management of the estate?” “No, Granny, I will not.” “Who then is to look after it? I am old and can no longer do all the work. Do you wish me to put the estate into strange hands?” “Farm it yourself, Granny, so long as you take any pleasure in it.” “And if I die?” “Then leave everything as it is.” Tatiana Markovna looked at the portrait of Raisky’s mother, for a long time she looked at the languishing eyes, the melancholy smile.