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I promised, though, to see you home, and I will keep my promise. He got up. 'What a night! silvery, dark, youthful! How sweet it must be to-night for men who are loved! How sweet for them not to sleep! Will you sleep, Andrei Petrovitch? Bersenyev made no answer, and quickened his pace. 'Where are you hurrying to? Shubin went on.

The next day at twelve o'clock, Bersenyev set off in a return coach to Moscow. He had to get some money from the post-office, to buy some books, and he wanted to seize the opportunity to see Insarov and have some conversation with him. The idea had occurred to Bersenyev, in the course of his last conversation with Shubin, to invite Insarov to stay with him at his country lodgings.

Shubin suggested that they should sing some Russian song in chorus, and struck up: 'Down the river Volga'... Bersenyev, Zoya, and even Anna Vassilyevna, joined in Insarov could not sing but they did not keep together; at the third verse the singers were all wrong. Only Bersenyev tried to go on in the bass, 'Nothing on the waves is seen, but he, too, was soon in difficulties.

'Ah, well, there's no mistake about it, Bersenyev was reflecting meanwhile, 'that Turkish aga, I venture to think, has been punished for his father's and mother's death. Insarov had not had time to say all he wanted to say, when the door opened and Shubin made his appearance.

Shubin heard of Insarov's critical position, and made inquiries after him. His compatriots Bulgarians came; among them Bersenyev recognised the two strange figures, who had puzzled him by their unexpected visit to the cottage; they all showed genuine sympathy, some offered to take Bersenyev's place by the patient's bed-side; but he would not consent to that, remembering his promise to Elena.

Bersenyev raised his eyes and looked at him. 'Is there nothing higher than happiness? he commented softly. 'And what, for instance? asked Shubin, stopping short.

Shall we go off on a spree, or not? 'I don't know how Insarov feels, observed Bersenyev. 'He is just getting to work, I fancy. Shubin turned round on his chair. 'You want to work? he inquired, in a somewhat condescending voice. 'No, answered Insarov; 'to-day I could give up to walking. 'Ah! commented Shubin. 'Well, that's delightful.

A woman in an old cloak, and shoes trodden down at heel, took pity at last on Bersenyev and pointed out Insarov's lodging to him. Bersenyev found him at home.

Elena crimsoned, and scarcely audibly, she breathed, 'Yes. 'Well, what then? That, I imagine, you can easily do. 'Ugh! he thought, 'what a loath-some feeling there is in my heart! 'You mean that I have already before... said Elena. 'But I am afraid now he is, you say, seldom alone. 'That's not difficult to get over, replied Bersenyev, still not looking at her.

Elena unfortunately doesn't understand how natural such contradictions are. Shubin suddenly burst into tears, turned away, and dropping upon the ground clutched at his hair. Bersenyev went up to him. 'Pavel, he began, 'what childishness this is! Really! what's the matter with you to-day? God knows what nonsense you have got into your head, and you are crying.