So it ended. And Eugene calmed down, hoping that as he had lived for a year without seeing her, so things would go on now. "Besides, Vasili Nikolaich will speak to Ivan the clerk; Ivan will speak to her, and she will understand that I don't want it," said Eugene to himself, and he was glad that he had forced himself to speak to Vasili Nikolaich, hard as it had been to do so.
"Yes, it is better, better, than that feeling of doubt, that feeling of shame." He shuddered at the mere remembrance of his sin in thought.
XII
The moral effort he had made to overcome his shame and speak to Vasili Nikolaich, tranquillized Eugene. It seemed to him that the matter was all over now. Liza at once noticed that he was quite calm, and even happier than usual. "No doubt he was upset by our mothers pin-pricking one another. It really is disagreeable, especially for him who is so sensitive and noble, always to hear such unfriendly and ill-mannered insinuations," thought she.
The next day was Trinity Sunday. The weather was beautiful, and the peasant-women, according to custom, on their way into the woods to plait wreaths, came to the landowner's home and began to sing and dance. Mary Pavlovna and Varvara Alexeevna came out on to the porch in smart clothes, carrying sunshades, and went up to the ring of singers. With them, in a jacket of Chinese silk, came out the uncle, a flabby libertine and drunkard, who was living that summer with Eugene.
As usual there was a bright, many-coloured ring of young women and girls, the centre of everything, and around these from different sides like attendant planets that had detached themselves and were circling round, went girls hand in hand, rustling in their new print gowns; young lads giggling and running backwards and forwards after one another; full-grown lads in dark blue or black coats and caps and with red shirts, who unceasingly spat out sunflower-seed shells; and the domestic servants or other outsiders watching the dance-circle from aside. Both the old ladies went close up to the ring, and Liza accompanied them in a light blue dress, with light blue ribbons on her head, and with wide sleeves under which her long white arms and angular elbows were visible.
Eugene did not wish to come out, but it was ridiculous to hide, and he too came out on to the porch smoking a cigarette, bowed to the men and lads, and talked with one of them. The women meanwhile shouted a dance-song with all their might, snapping their fingers, clapping their hands, and dancing.
"They are calling for the master," said a youngster, coming up to Eugene's wife who had not noticed the call. Liza called Eugene to look at the dance and at one of the women dancers who particularly pleased her. This was Stepanida. She wore a yellow skirt, a velveteen sleeveless jacket and a silk kerchief, and was broad, energetic, ruddy, and merry. No doubt she danced well. He saw nothing.
"Yes, yes," said he, removing and replacing his pince-nez. "Yes, yes," repeated he. "So it seems I cannot be rid of her," he thought.
He did not look at her as he was afraid of her attraction, and just on that account what his passing glance caught of her seemed to him especially attractive. Besides this he saw by her sparkling look that she saw him and saw that he admired her. He stood there as long as propriety demanded, and seeing that Varvara Alexeevna had called her, senselessly and insincerely, "my dear," and was talking to her, he turned aside and went away.