“You will believe everything she says?” asked Juliana Andreevna, drawing him away to the window, while Leonti collected the scattered papers, laid them in cupboards and put the books on the shelves. “Yes, everything,” she said. “Don’t believe her. I know she will tell you all sorts of nonsense--about Monsieur Charles.” “Who is he?” “A Frenchman, a teacher, and a colleague of my husband’s. They sit there reading till all hours. How can I help it? Yet God knows what they make out of it in the town, as if I.... Don’t believe it,” she went on, as she saw Raisky was silent. “It is idle talk, there is nothing,” she concluded, with a false smile intended to be allowing. “What business is it of mine?” returned Raisky, turning away from her. “Shall we go into the garden?” “Yes, we will have dinner outside,” said Leonti. “Serve what there is, Ulinka. Come, Boris, now we can talk.” Then as an idea struck him, he added, “What shall you have to say to me about the library?” “About what library? You wrote to me about it, but I did not understand what you were talking about. I think you said some person called Mark, had been tearing the books.” “You cannot imagine, Boris, how vexed I was about it,” he said as he took down some books with torn backs from the shelves. Raisky pushed the books away. “What does it matter to me?” he said. “You are like my grandmother; she bothers me about accounts, you about books.” “But Boris, I don’t know what accounts she bothered you about, but these books are your most precious possession. Look!” he said, pointing with pride to the rows of books which filled the study to the ceiling. “Only on this shelf nearly everything is ruined by that accursed Mark! The other books are all right. See, I drew up a catalogue, which took a whole year to do,” and he pointed self-consciously to a thick bound volume of manuscript. “I wrote it all with my own hand,” he continued. “Sit down, Boris, and read out the names. I will get on the ladder, and show you the books; they are arranged according to their numbers.” “What an idea!” “Or better wait till after dinner; we shall not be able to finish before.” “Listen, should you like to have a library like that?” asked Raisky. “I!--a library like that?” Sunshine blazed from Leonti’s eyes, he smiled so broadly that even the hair on his brow stirred with the dislocation caused. “A library like that?” He shook his head. “You must be mad.” “Tell me, do you love me as you used to do?” “Why do you ask? Of course.” “Then the books shall be yours for good and all, under one condition.” “I--take these books!” Leonti looked now at the books, now at Raisky, then made a gesture of refusal, and sighed. “Do not laugh at me, Boris! Don’t tempt me.” “I am not joking.” Here Juliana Andreevna, who had heard the last words, chimed in with, “Take what is given you.”