About half a mile from the station, he sat down on a stone by the side of the road, and gazed at the sun, which was half hidden behind a barrow.  There were lights already here and there at the station, and one green light glimmered dimly, but the train was not yet in sight.  It was pleasant to Volodya to sit still without moving, and to watch the evening coming little by little.  The darkness of the arbour, the footsteps, the smell of the bath-house, the laughter, and the waist—­all these rose with amazing vividness before his imagination, and all this was no longer so terrible and important as before.

“It’s of no consequence. . . .  She did not pull her hand away, and laughed when I held her by the waist,” he thought.  “So she must have liked it.  If she had disliked it she would have been angry . . . .”

And now Volodya felt sorry that he had not had more boldness there in the arbour.  He felt sorry that he was so stupidly going away, and he was by now persuaded that if the same thing happened again he would be bolder and look at it more simply.

And it would not be difficult for the opportunity to occur again.  They used to stroll about for a long time after supper at the Shumihins’.  If Volodya went for a walk with Nyuta in the dark garden, there would be an opportunity!

“I will go back,” he thought, “and will go by the morning train to-morrow. . . .  I will say I have missed the train.”

And he turned back. . . .  Madame Shumihin, Maman, Nyuta, and one of the nieces were sitting on the verandah, playing vint.  When Volodya told them the lie that he had missed the train, they were uneasy that he might be late for the examination day, and advised him to get up early.  All the while they were playing he sat on one side, greedily watching Nyuta and waiting. . . .  He already had a plan prepared in his mind:  he would go up to Nyuta in the dark, would take her by the hand, then would embrace her; there would be no need to say anything, as both of them would understand without words.

But after supper the ladies did not go for a walk in the garden, but went on playing cards.  They played till one o’clock at night, and then broke up to go to bed.

“How stupid it all is!” Volodya thought with vexation as he got into bed.  “But never mind; I’ll wait till to-morrow . . . to-morrow in the arbour.  It doesn’t matter. . . .”

He did not attempt to go to sleep, but sat in bed, hugging his knees and thinking.  All thought of the examination was hateful to him.  He had already made up his mind that they would expel him, and that there was nothing terrible about his being expelled.  On the contrary, it was a good thing—­a very good thing, in fact.  Next day he would be as free as a bird; he would put on ordinary clothes instead of his school uniform, would smoke openly, come out here, and make love to Nyuta when he liked; and he would not be a schoolboy but “a young man.”  And as for the rest of it, what is called a career, a future, that was clear; Volodya would go into the army or the telegraph service, or he would go into a chemist’s shop and work his way up till he was a dispenser. . . .  There were lots of callings.  An hour or two passed, and he was still sitting and thinking. . . .