logs. . . ."

She opened a pretty cupboard that stood near her writing-table, and
said:

"I am saying all this to you because I want to let you into my
secret. _Voilà!_ This is my agricultural library. Here I have fields,
kitchen garden and orchard, and cattleyard and beehives. I read
them greedily, and have already learnt all the theory to the tiniest
detail. My dream, my darling wish, is to go to our Dubetchnya as
soon as March is here. It's marvellous there, exquisite, isn't it?
The first year I shall have a look round and get into things, and
the year after I shall begin to work properly myself, putting my
back into it as they say. My father has promised to give me Dubetchnya
and I shall do exactly what I like with it."

Flushed, excited to tears, and laughing, she dreamed aloud how she
would live at Dubetchnya, and what an interesting life it would be!
I envied her. March was near, the days were growing longer and
longer, and on bright sunny days water dripped from the roofs at
midday, and there was a fragrance of spring; I, too, longed for the
country.

And when she said that she should move to Dubetchnya, I realized
vividly that I should remain in the town alone, and I felt that I
envied her with her cupboard of books and her agriculture. I knew
nothing of work on the land, and did not like it, and I should have
liked to have told her that work on the land was slavish toil, but
I remembered that something similar had been said more than once
by my father, and I held my tongue.