his own will, and it gives power, which is better than liberty. Know how to will, and you will be free, and will lead.’

‘My father, before all, and above all, desired to live, and lived� . Perhaps he had a presentiment that he would not have long to enjoy the ‘savour’ of life: he died at forty-two.

I described my evening at the Zasyekins’ minutely to my father. Half attentively, half carelessly, he listened to me, sitting on a garden seat, drawing in the sand with his cane. Now and then he laughed, shot bright, droll glances at me, and spurred me on with short questions and assents. At first I could not bring myself even to utter the name of Zina�da, but I could not restrain myself long, and began singing her praises. My father still laughed; then he grew