o　his　temples；　and　by　degrees　suffused　his　whole　face。　Yevgraf　Ivanovitch　shifted　in　his　chair　and　unbuttoned　his　shirt…collar　to　save　himself　from　choking。　He　was　evidently　struggling　with　the　feeling　that　was　mastering　him。　A　deathlike　silence　followed。　The　children　held　their　breath。　Fedosya　Semyonovna；　as　though　she　did　not　grasp　what　was　happening　to　her　husband；　went　on：
  〃He　is　not　a　little　boy　now；　you　know；　he　is　ashamed　to　go　about　without　clothes。〃
  Shiryaev　suddenly　jumped　up；　and　with　all　his　might　flung　down　his　fat　pocket…book　in　the　middle　of　the　table；　so　that　a　hunk　of　bread　flew　off　a　plate。　A　revolting　expression　of　anger；　resentment；　avarice　　all　mixed　together　　flamed　on　his　face。
  〃Take　everything！〃　he　shouted　in　an　unnatural　voice；　〃plunder　me！　Take　it　all！　Strangle　me！〃
  He　jumped　up　from　the　table；　clutched　at　his　head；　and　ran　staggering　about　the　room。
  〃Strip　me　to　the　last　thread！〃　he　shouted　in　a　shrill　voice。　〃Squeeze　out　the　last　drop！　Rob　me！　Wring　my　neck！〃
  The　student　flushed　and　dropped　his　eyes。　He　could　not　go　on　eating。　Fedosya　Semyonovna；　who　had　not　after　twenty…five　years　grown　used　to　her　husband's　difficult　character；　shrank　into　herself　and　muttered　something　in　self…defence。　An　expression　of　amazement　and　dull　terror　came　into　her　wasted　and　birdlike　face；　which　at　all　times　looked　dull　and　scared。　The　little　boys　and　the　elder　daughter　Varvara；　a　girl　in　her　teens；　with　a　pale　ugly　face；　laid　down　their　spoons　and　sat　mute。
  Shiryaev；　growing　more　and　more　ferocious；　uttering　words　each　more　terrible　than　the　one　before；　dashed　up　to　the　table　and　began　shaking　the　notes　out　of　his　pocket…book。
  〃Take　them！〃　he　muttered；　shaking　all　over。　〃You've　eaten　and　drunk　your　fill；　so　here's　money　for　you　too！　I　need　nothing！　Order　yourself　new　boots　and　uniforms！〃
  The　student　turned　pale　and　got　up。
  〃Listen；　papa；〃　he　began；　gasping　for　breath。　〃I　。　。　。　I　beg　you　to　end　this；　for　。　。　。〃
  〃Hold　your　tongue！〃　the　father　shouted　at　him；　and　so　loudly　that　the　spectacles　fell　off　his　nose；　〃hold　your　tongue！〃
  〃I　used　。　。　。　I　used　to　be　able　to　put　up　with　such　scenes；　but　。　。　。　but　now　I　have　got　out　of　the　way　of　it。　Do　you　understand？　I　have　got　out　of　the　way　of　it！〃
  〃Hold　your　tongue！〃　cried　the　father；　and　he　stamped　with　his　feet。　〃You　must　listen　to　what　I　say！　I　shall　say　what　I　like；　and　you　hold　your　tongue。　At　your　age　I　was　earning　my　living；　while　you　。　。　。　Do　you　know　what　you　cost　me；　you　scoundrel？　I'll　turn　you　out！　Wastrel！〃
  〃Yevgraf　Ivanovitch；〃　muttered　Fedosya　Semyonovna；　moving　her　fingers　nervously；　〃you　know　he。　。　。　you　know　Petya　。　。　。　！〃
  〃Hold　your　tongue！〃　Shiryaev　shouted　out　to　her；　and　tears　actually　came　into　his　eyes　from　anger。　〃It　is　you　who　have　spoilt　them　　you！　It's　all　your　fault！　He　has　no　respect　for　us；　does　not　say　his　prayers；　and　earns　nothing！　I　am　only　one　against　the　ten　of　you！　I'll　turn　you　out　of　the　house！〃
  The　daughter　Varvara　gazed　fixedly　at　her　mother　with　her　mouth　open；　moved　her　vacant…looking　eyes　to　the　window；　turned　pale；　and；　uttering　a　loud　shriek；　fell　back　in　her　chair。　The　father；　with　a　curse　and　a　wave　of　the　hand；　ran　out　into　the　yard。
  This　was　how　domestic　scenes　usually　ended　at　the　Shiryaevs'。　But　on　this　occasion；　unfortunately；　Pyotr　the　student　was　carried　away　by　overmastering　anger。　He　was　just　as　hasty　and　ill…tempered　as　his　father　and　his　grandfather　the　priest；　who　used　to　beat　his　parishioners　about　the　head　with　a　stick。　Pale　and　clenching　his　fists；　he　went　up　to　his　mother　and　shouted　in　the　very　highest　tenor　note　his　voice　could　reach：
  〃These　reproaches　are　loathsome！　sickening　to　me！　I　want　nothing　from　you！　Nothing！　I　would　rather　die　of　hunger　than　eat　another　mouthful　at　your　expense！　Take　your　nasty　money　back！　take　it！〃
  The　mother　huddled　against　the　wall　and　waved　her　hands；　as　though　it　were　not　her　son；　but　some　phantom　before　her。　〃What　have　I　done？〃　she　wailed。　〃What？〃
  Like　his　father；　the　boy　waved　his　hands　and　ran　into　the　yard。　Shiryaev's　house　stood　alone　on　a　ravine　which　ran　like　a　furrow　for　four　miles　along　the　steppe。　Its　sides　were　overgrown　with　oak　saplings　and　alders；　and　a　stream　ran　at　the　bottom。　On　one　side　the　house　looked　towards　the　ravine；　on　the　other　towards　the　open　country；　there　were　no　fences　nor　hurdles。　Instead　there　were　farm…buildings　of　all　sorts　close　to　one　another；　shutting　in　a　small　space　in　front　of　the　house　which　was　regarded　as　the　yard；　and　in　which　hens；　ducks；　and　pigs　ran　about。
  Going　out　of　the　house；　the　student　walked　along　the　muddy　road　towards　the　open　country。　The　air　was　full　of　a　penetrating　autumn　dampness。　The　road　was　muddy；　puddles　gleamed　here　and　there；　and　in　the　yellow　fields　autumn　itself　seemed　looking　out　from　the　grass；　dismal；　decaying；　dark。　On　the　right…hand　side　of　the　road　was　a　vegetable…garden　cleared　of　its　crops　and　gloomy…looking；　with　here　and　there　sunflowers　standing　up　in　it　with　hanging　heads　already　black。
  Pyotr　thought　it　would　not　be　a　bad　thing　to　walk　to　Moscow　on　foot；　to　walk　just　as　he　was；　with　holes　in　his　boots；　without　a　cap；　and　without　a　farthing　of　money。　When　he　had　gone　eighty　miles　his　father；　frightened　and　aghast；　would　overtake　him；　would　begin　begging　him　to　turn　back　or　take　the　money；　but　he　would　not　even　look　at　him；　but　would　go　on　and　on。　。　。　。　Bare　forests　would　be　followed　by　desolate　fields；　fields　by　forests　again；　soon　the　earth　would　be　white　with　the　first　snow；　and　the　streams　would　be　coated　with　ice。　。　。　。　Somewhere　near　Kursk　or　near　Serpuhovo；　exhausted　and　dying　of　hunger；　he　would　sink　down　and　die。　His　corpse　would　be　found；　and　there　would　be　a　paragraph　in　all　the　papers　saying　that　a　student　called　Shiryaev　had　died　of　hunger。　。　。　。
  A　white　dog　with　a　muddy　tail　who　was　wandering　about　the　vegetable…garden　looking　for　something　gazed　at　him　and　sauntered　after　him。
  He　walked　along　the　road　and　thought　of　death；　of　the　grief　of　his　family；　of　the　moral　sufferings　of　his　father；　and　then　pictured　all　sorts　of　adventures　on　the　road；　each　more　marvellous　than　the　one　before　　picturesque　places；　terrible　nights；　chance　encounters。　He　imagined　a　string　of　pilgrims；　a　hut　in　the　forest　with　one　little　window　shining　in　the　darkness；　he　stands　before　the　window；　begs　for　a　night's　lodging。　。　。　。　They　let　him　in；　and　suddenly　he　sees　that　they　are　robbers。　Or；　better　still；　he　is　taken　into　a　big　manor…house；　where；　learning　who　he　is；　they　give　him　food　and　drink；　play　to　him　on　the　piano；　listen　to　his　complaints；　and　the　daughter　of　the　house；　a　beauty；　falls　in　love　with　him。
  Absorbed　in　his　bitterness　and　such　thoughts；　young　Shiryaev　walked　on　and　on。　Far；　far　ahead　he　saw　the　inn；　a　dark　patch　against　the　grey　background　of　cloud。　Beyond　the　inn；　on　the　very　horizon；　he　could　see　a　little　hillock；　this　was　the　railway…station。　That　hillock　reminded　him　of　the　connection　existing　between　the　place　where　he　was　now　standing　and　Moscow；　where　street…lamps　were　burning　and　carriages　were　rattling　in　the　streets；　where　lectures　were　being　given。　And　he　almost　wept　with　depression　and　impatience。　The　solemn　landscape；　with　its　order　and　beauty；　the　deathlike　stillness　all　around；　revolted　him　and　moved　him　to　despair　and　hatred！
  〃Look　out！〃　He　heard　behind　him　a　loud　voice。
  An　old　lady　of　his　acquaintance；　a　landowner　of　the　neighbourhood；　drove　past　him　in　a　light；　elegant　landau。　He　bowed　to　her；　and　smiled　all　over　his　face。　And　at　once　he　caught　himself　in　that　smile；　which　was　so　out　of　keeping　with　his　gloomy　mood。　Where　did　it　come　from　if　his　whole　heart　was　full　of　vexation　and　misery？　And　he　thought　nature　itself　had　given　man　this　capacity　for　lying；　that　even　in　difficult　moments　of　spiritual　strain　he　might　be　able　to　hide　the　secrets　of　his　nest　as　the　fox　and　the　wild　duck　do。　Every　family　has　its　joys　and　its　horrors；　but　however　great　they　may　be；　it's　hard　for　an　outsider's　eye　to　see　them；　they　are　a　secret。　The　father　of　the　old　lady　who　had　just　driven　by；　for　instance；　had　for　some　offence　lain　for　half　his　lifetime　under　the　ban　of　the　wrath　of　Tsar　Nicolas　I。；　her　husband　had　been　a　gambler；　of　her　four　sons；　not　one　had　turned　out　well。　One　could　imagine　how　many　terrible　scenes　there　must　have　been　in　her　life；　how　many　tears　must　have　been　shed。　And　yet　the　old　lady　seemed　happy　and　satisfied；　and　she　had　answered　his　smile　by　smiling　too。　The　student　thought　of　his　comrades；　who　did　not　like　talking　about　their　families；　he　thought　of　his　mother；　who　almost　always　lied　when　she　had　to　speak　of　her　husband　and　children。　。　。　。
  Pyotr　walked　about　the　roads　far　from　home　till　dusk；　abandoning　himself　to　dreary　thoughts。　When　it　began　to　drizzle　with　rain　he　turned　homewards。　As　he　walked　back　he　made　up　his　mind　at　all　costs　to　talk　to　his　father；　to　explain　to　him；　once　and　for　all；　that　it　was　dreadful　and　oppressive　to　live　with　him。
  He　found　perfect　stillness　in　the　house。　His　sister　Varvara　was　lying　behind　a　screen　with　a　headache；　moaning　faintly。　His　mother；　with　a　look　of　amazement　and　guilt　upon　her　face；　was　sitting　beside　her　on　a　box；　mending　Arhipka's　trousers。　Yevgraf　Iv