"What makes you think that I am miserable? On the contrary I am in
excellent spirits. Somewhat bored, perhaps."
"Ah! that's because you've nothing to do," said Dubova.
"Have you so much to do, then?"
"At any rate, I have not the time to weep." "I am not weeping, am I?"
"Well," said Dubova, teasing him, "you're in the sulks."
"My life," replied Yourii, "has caused me to forget what laughing is."
This was said in such a bitter tone that there was a sudden silence.
"A friend of mine told me that my life is most instructive," said
Yourii after a pause, though no one had ever made such a statement to
him.
"In what way?" asked Sina cautiously.
"As an example of how not to live."
"Oh! do tell us all about it. Perhaps we might profit by the lesson,"
said Dubova.
Yourii considered that his life was an absolute failure, and that he
himself was the most luckless and wretched of men. In such a belief
there lay a certain mournful solace, and it was pleasant to him to
complain about his own life and mankind in general. To men he never
spoke of such things, feeling instinctively that they would not believe
him, but to women, especially if they were young and pretty, he was
ever ready to talk at length about himself. He was good-looking, and
talked well, so women always felt for him affectionate pity. On this
occasion also, if jocular at the outset, Yourii relapsed into his usual
tone; discoursing at great length about his own life. From his own
description he appeared to be a man of extraordinary powers, cramped
and crushed by the force of circumstances, misunderstood by his party,
and one who by unlucky chance and human folly was doomed to be just a
mere student in exile instead of a leader of the people! Like all
extremely self-satisfied persons Yourii entirely failed to perceive
that all this in no way proved his extraordinary powers, and that men
of genius were surrounded by just such associates, and hampered by just
such misfortunes. It seemed to him that he alone was the victim of an
inexorable destiny. As he talked well and with great vivacity and
point, what he said sounded true enough, so that girls believed him,
pitied him, and sympathized with him in his misfortunes. The band was
still playing its sad, discordant tunes, the evening was gloomy and
depressing, and they all three felt in a melancholy mood. When Yourii
ceased talking, Dubova, meditating on her own dull, monotonous
existence and vanishing youth without joy or love, asked him in a low
voice, "Tell me, Yourii, has the thought of suicide never crossed your mind?"