"That's it, Ilya! You're a good fellow," cried Pavel, excitedly.
"But do you drink out of the river?" said Vyera, softly.
"I must find it first," laughed Ilya. "Pour me out a glass of tea to go on with, Vyera!"
"Many thanks," said Ilya, seriously, bowed to her, and sat down again.
His words and the whole scene acted on Pavel like wine. His animated face reddened, his eyes shone with excitement, he sprang from his chair and paced the room joyously. "Ah, devil take it!" he cried, "the world's a jolly place, if men are as simple as children. It was a good thing I did when I brought you along, Ilya! Drink, brother! Fill up, Vyerunka!"
"Now there's no holding him," said the girl, and smiled at him tenderly. Then, turning to Ilya, "he's always like that, either as gay and shining as a rainbow, or dull, and grey, and cross."
"That's not good," said Lunev decidedly. Then all three began to chatter gaily and cheerfully, breaking into careless laughter every now and then.
There was a knock at the door, and a voice asked: "Vyera, may I come in?"
"Come in! come in! Ilya Jakovlevitsch, this is my friend, Lipa."
Ilya rose from his chair, and turned towards the door. A tall, stately woman stood before him, and looked in his face with calm blue eyes. From her dress came a sweet perfume, her cheeks were fresh and red, and her head was adorned with a crown-like mass of hair that made her look even taller.
"I was sitting alone in my room, so bored, and then, all at once I heard you talking and laughing, and so--well, I came here. You don't mind I hope? There's a gentleman without a lady. I will entertain him--shall I?"
With a graceful gesture, she placed her chair near Ilya's, seated herself, and asked: "You're rather bored with them, aren't you? They kiss and hug one another, and you're envious, eh?"
"I'm not bored with them," said Ilya, confused by feeling her so near.
"That's a pity," she said quietly, then turned from Ilya and went over to Vyera.
"Just think, I went to Mass yesterday at the nunnery, and I saw such a pretty nun in the choir, such a dear. I couldn't take my eyes off her, and thought why on earth did she go into the nunnery. I felt quite sorry."
Ilya breathed in the costly perfume that floated round this woman, he looked sidelong at her and listened to her voice. She spoke with extraordinary calm and self-possession, there was something drowsy in her voice and it seemed as though a powerful, delightful scent streamed from her words also.