The glow of summer lay on the town. Calm were the nights when the
large, lustrous moon shone overhead and the air, heavy with odours from
field and garden, pleasurably soothed the languid senses.

In the daytime people worked, or were engaged in politics or art; in
eating, drinking, bathing, conversing. Yet, when the heat grew less,
and the bustle and turmoil had ceased, while on the dim horizon the
moon's round mysterious disc rose slowly above meadow and field,
shedding on roofs and gardens a strange, cold light, then folk began to
breathe more freely, and to live anew, having cast off, as it were, an
oppressive cloak.

And, where youth predominated, life became ampler and more free. The
gardens were filled with the melody of nightingales, the meadow-grasses
quivered in response to the light touch of a maiden's gown, while
shadows deepened, and in the warm dusk eyes grew brighter and voices
more tender, for love was in the languid, fragrant air.

Yourii Svarogitsch and Schafroff were both keenly interested in
politics, and in a recently formed society for mutual education, Yourii
read all the latest books, and believed that he had now found his
vocation in life, and a way to end all his doubts. Yet, however much he
read, and despite all his activities, life had no charm for him, being
barren and dreary. Only when in robust health, and when the physical
part of him was roused by the prospect of falling in love, did life
seem really desirable. Formerly all pretty young women had interested
him in equal measure, yet among the rest he now singled out one in whom
the charms of all the others were united, standing apart in her
loveliness as a young birch tree stands in springtime on the border of
a wood.