United States or Cayman Islands ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
She thought much of Bersenyev, and of her conversation with him. She liked him; she believed in the warmth of his feelings, and the purity of his aims. He had never before talked to her as on that evening. She recalled the expression of his timid eyes, his smiles and she smiled herself and fell to musing, but not of him. She began to look out into the night from the open window.
But he began to think of Elena, and all these passing sensations vanished at once; there remained only the reviving sense of the night freshness, of the walk by night; his whole soul was absorbed by the image of the young girl. Bersenyev walked with bent head, recalling her words, her questions. He fancied he heard the tramp of quick steps behind.
'Ah, you are a confirmed sympathetic! broke in Shubin, laughing at the new title he had coined, while Bersenyev sank into thought.
'Andrei Petrovitch, you are kind as an angel, she said, 'but will he come to say goodbye? 'Yes, I imagine so; he will be sure to come. He wouldn't like to go away 'Tell him, tell him But here the poor girl broke down; tears rushed streaming from her eyes, and she ran out of the room. 'So that's how she loves him, thought Bersenyev, as he walked slowly home.
Bersenyev snatched up his cap, thrust a rouble into the tailor's hand, and at once set off with him post haste to Insarov's lodgings. He found him lying on the sofa, unconscious and not undressed. His face was terribly changed. Bersenyev at once ordered the people of the house to undress him and put him to bed, while he rushed off himself and returned with a doctor.
He shut in Insarov's bed with screens, and arranged a little place for himself by the sofa. The day passed slowly and drearily. Bersenyev did not leave the room except to get his dinner. The evening came. He lighted a candle with a shade, and settled down to a book. Everything was still around.
There is nothing prosaic about Insarov, though Shubin does maintain 'Shubin! Elena broke in, shrugging her shoulders. 'But you must confess these two good men gobbling up porridge 'Even Themistocles had his supper on the eve of Salamis, observed Bersenyev with a smile. 'Yes; but then there was a battle next day.
On the very day on which Elena had written this last fatal line in her diary, Insarov was sitting in Bersenyev's room, and Bersenyev was standing before him with a look of perplexity on his face. Insarov had just announced his intention of returning to Moscow the next day. 'Upon my word! cried Bersenyev. 'Why, the finest part of the summer is just beginning. What will you do in Moscow?
'That's as much as to say, pine-apples are not necessary; but you need not be alarmed; there will always be plenty of people who like them enough to take the bread out of other men's mouths to get them. Both friends were silent a little. 'I met Insarov again the other day, began Bersenyev. 'I invited him to stay with me; I really must introduce him to you and to the Stahovs. 'Who is Insarov?
Bersenyev was already familiar with Insarov's unbending will; but it was only now when he was under the same roof with him, that he fully realised at last that Insarov would never alter any decision, just in the same way as he would never fail to carry out a promise he had given; to Bersenyev a Russian to his fingertips this more than German exactitude seemed at first odd, and even rather ludicrous; but he soon got used to it, and ended by finding it if not deserving of respect at least very convenient.
Word Of The Day