One fall, Yermolai and I hunted woodcocks in an abandoned linden garden, of which there are many in the Oryol province. It turned out that this garden belongs to the landowner Radilov. He invited me to dinner, and I had no choice but to agree. Radilov led me through the garden to an old, gray house with a teddy roof and a curved porch. Yermolai was brought vodka, and they led me into the living room and introduced me to Radilov's mother, a little old woman with a kind, thin face and a sad look. In the living room there was also an old man of about 70, thin, bald and toothless. It was Fyodor Mikheich, the ruined landowner who lived with Radilov out of mercy.
A girl entered, Olga introduced to me, and we sat down at the table. At dinner, Radilov, who served in the infantry regiment, went into stories, and I watched Olga. She was very good and watched Radilov with passionate attention. After lunch, Radilov and I went to his office. I was surprised to see that there was no passion for what constitutes the life of all the other landowners. It seemed that his whole soul, kind and warm, was imbued with one feeling. Radilov was not a gloomy man, but it was felt that he could not make friends with anyone, because he lived an inner life.
Soon Olga invited us to drink tea. She spoke very little, but she did not have the mannerism of a county girl. Her gaze was calm and indifferent, as if she was resting from great happiness, and her movements were decisive and free. In the conversation, Radilov remembered the deceased wife, whose sister Olga was. With a strange expression on her face, Olga quickly got up and went out into the garden. At the entrance there was a clatter of wheels and a tall, broad-shouldered and stout old man, Ovsyannikov’s classmate, about whom I will tell in another passage, entered the room. The next day, Yermolai and I went hunting again.
A week later, I again went to Radilov, but did not find him or Olga at home. Two weeks later, I found out that he had abandoned his mother and left somewhere with his sister-in-law. Only then did I understand the expression on Olga's face: it blazed with jealousy. Before leaving the village, I visited Starushka Radilova, and asked if there was news from my son. The old woman cried, and I didn’t ask her anymore about Radilov.
