Rameyev said after a brief silence:

"I am appalled at this savagery. Murders every day, every day."

"What's there to do?" asked Stchemilov, persisting in his ironic tone.
"I suppose you'd like to have freedom for domestic use, the sort you
could fold up and put in your pocket."

Rameyev, making no effort to disguise his desire of closing the
conversation, rose, smiling, and stretched out his hand to Stchemilov.

"I must go now."

Misha was about to follow him, but changed his mind and ran towards
the river. He found his fishing-rod near the bath-house and entered
the water up to his knees. He had long ago accustomed himself to go to
the river when agitated by sadness or joy or when he had to think
about something very seriously. He was a shy and self-sufficient boy
and loved to be alone with his thoughts and his dreams. The coolness
of the water running fast about his legs comforted him and banished
evil moods. As he stood here, with his naked legs in the water, he
became gentle and calm.

Elena soon came there also. She stood silently on the bank and looked
at the water. For some reason she felt sad and wanted to cry.

The water glided past her tranquilly, almost noiselessly. Its surface
was smooth--and thus it ran on.

Elisaveta looked at Stchemilov with mild displeasure.