“But everything here is so beautiful!” cried Vera, “the great pictures and the books!”
“Pictures? Books? Where? I don’t remember. Bravo, little Veroshka.”
He kissed her. She wiped her lips, and ran on in front to show him the books. He found some two thousand volumes, and was soon absorbed in reading the titles; many of the books were still uncut.
From this time he was not often to be seen in the wooden house. He did not even go down to the Volga, but devoured one volume after another. Then he wrote verses, read them aloud, and intoxicated himself with the sound of them; then gave all his time to drawing. He expected something, he knew not what, from the future. He was filled with passion, with the foretaste of pleasure; there rose before him a world of wonderful music, marvellous pictures, and the murmur of enchanting life.
“I have been wanting to ask you,” said Tatiana Markovna, “why you have entered yourself for school again.”
“It’s the same thing. You studied at your guardian’s, and at the High School, you can draw, play the piano. What more do you want to learn? The students will only teach you to smoke a pipe, and in the end--which God forbid--to drink wine. You should go into the Guards.”
“Uncle says my means are not sufficient....”
“Not sufficient! What next?” She pointed to the fields and the village. She counted out his resources in hundreds and thousands of roubles. She had had no experience of army circles, had never lived in the capital, and did not know how much money was needed.
“Your means insufficient! Why, I can send provision alone for a whole regiment. No means! What does your Uncle do with the revenues?”
“When I leave the University, I intend to enter the Academy.”
“What’s the matter with you, Borushka? Make the sign of the cross! Do you want to be a teacher!”
“All artists are not teachers. Among artists there are great geniuses, who are famous and receive large sums for pictures or music.”
“And do you intend to sell your pictures for money, or to play the piano for money in the evenings? What a disgrace!”
“No, Borushka, don’t anger your Grandmother; let her have the joy of seeing you in your Guard’s uniform.”
“Uncle says I ought to go into the Civil Service.”