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to herself: ‘Is there a future life, or does death
put an end to everything? Can two lovers meet
in another world and recognise each other?’
With passionate energy she now took up this
question, as if she were the first who had ever
asked it, and she felt as if she could not live unless
she had an answer. And this crisis in Aniuta’s
mind threw its reflection on her younger sister.
It was a beautiful summer evening at sunset,
the air was delightful, and through the open
windows came the scent of roses and new-mown
hay; from the farm yard one heard distant voices
and lowing of cattle—all the sounds that fill the
air on a summer evening in the country. Tania
was ten years old then, and she felt very happy.
She had escaped a few moments from her governess’s
superintendence, and rushed up to the top of
the tower to see what her sister was doing.
And there on the sofa, with floating hair, on
which the parting sunbeams are shining, lies
Aniuta, crying as if her heart would break.
Tania, frightened to death, cries out: ‘But,
dearest Aniuta, whatever is the matter?’ No
answer.
Aniuta kept silent a long while; at last she
said: ‘You are too young to understand; I don’t
cry over myself, but over all men. You are a
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