This was most agreeable; yet something seemed to be missing. Once more he thought of Semenoff. It was grievous to know that he should never set eyes upon him again, and though he had never felt any affection for Semenoff, he now had become near and dear to him. Tears rose to his eyes. He pictured the dead student lying in the grave, a mass of corruption, and he remembered these words of his:
“You’ll be living, and breathing this air, and enjoying this moonlight, and you’ll go past my grave where I lie.”
“Here, under my feet, like human beings, too,” thought Yourii, looking down at the dust. “I am trampling on brains, and hearts, and human eyes! Oh!… And I shall die, too, and others will walk over me, thinking just as I think now. Ah! before it is too late, one must live, one must live! Yes; but live in the right way, so that not a moment of one’s life be lost. Yet how is one to do that?”
The market-place lay white and bare in the moonlight. All was silent in the town.
Never more shall singer’s lute Tidings of him tell.
Yourii hummed this softly to himself. Then he said, aloud: “How tedious, sad, and dreadful it all is!” as if complaining to some one. The sound of his own voice alarmed him, and he turned round to see if he had been overheard. “I am drunk,” he thought.
Silent and serene, the night looked down.
While Sina Karsavina and Dubova were absent on a visit, Yourii’s life seemed uneventful and monotonous. His father was engaged, either at the club or with household matters, and Lialia and Riasantzeff found the presence of a third person embarrassing, so that Yourii avoided their society. It thus became his habit to go to bed early and not to rise till the midday meal. All day long, when in his room, or in the garden, he brooded over matters, waiting for a supreme access of energy that should spur him on to do some great work.
This “great work” each day assumed a different form. Now it was a picture, or, again, it was a series of articles that should show the world what a huge mistake the social democrats had made in not giving Yourii a leading role in their party. Or else it was an article in favour of adherence to the people and of strenuous co-operation with it—a very broad, imposing treatment of the subject. Each day, however, as it passed, brought nothing but boredom. Once or twice Novikoff and Schafroff came to see him. Yourii also attended lectures and paid visits, yet all this seemed to him empty and aimless. It was not what he sought, or fancied that he sought.