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When he had happened to imagine all this beforehand, he had

sometimes thought that he would be very much afraid. But he was

not very much afraid now, was not afraid at all, indeed. His mind

was even occupied by irrelevant matters, but by nothing for long.

As he passed the Yusupov garden, he was deeply absorbed in

considering the building of great fountains, and of their

refreshing effect on the atmosphere in all the squares. By

degrees he passed to the conviction that if the summer garden

were extended to the field of Mars, and perhaps joined to the

garden of the Mihailovsky Palace, it would be a splendid thing

and a great benefit to the town. Then he was interested by the

question why in all great towns men are not simply driven by

necessity, but in some peculiar way inclined to live in those

parts of the town where there are no gardens nor fountains; where

there is most dirt and smell and all sorts of nastiness.