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'But tell me, has he not taken vengeance on that Turkish aga? Bersenyev smiled 'Revenge is only to be found in novels, Elena Nikolaevna; and, besides, in twelve years that aga may well be dead. 'Mr. Insarov has never said anything, though, to you about it? 'No, never. 'Why did he go to Sophia? 'His father used to live there. Elena grew thoughtful. 'To liberate one's country! she said.
I don't know if Bersenyev has talked to you about me, but he has told me a great deal about you. You are staying here? Capital! Don't be offended at my staring at you so. I'm a sculptor by trade, and I foresee I shall in a little time be begging your permission to model your head. 'My head's at your service, said Insarov.
The dinner lasted rather a long time; Bersenyev talked with Elena about university life, and his own plans and hopes; Shubin listened without speaking, ate with an exaggerated show of greediness, and now and then threw comic glances of despair at Zoya, who responded always with the same phlegmatic smile.
Shubin returned to Moscow with Anna Vassilyevna; Bersenyev, a few days later. Insarov was sitting in his room, and for the third time looking through the letters brought him from Bulgaria by hand; they were afraid to send them by post. He was much disturbed by them.
Have you ever noticed how she listens? There's not a single feature different, but the whole expression of the eyes is constantly changing, and with that the whole face changes. What is a sculptor and a poor one too to do with such a face? She's a wonderful creature a strange creature, he added after a brief pause. 'Yes; she is a wonderful girl, Bersenyev repeated after him.
Elena had not seen Bersenyev for more than a week: he had been seldom of late at the Stahovs'. She had not expected to meet him; and crying, 'You! thank you! she threw herself on his neck; Insarov, too, embraced him. A painful silence followed. What could these three say to one another? what were they feeling in their hearts?
Such trifles! 'H'm, muttered Shubin. 'That's how you put it; but they were not trifles to me. You see, he went on, 'I ought to point out to you that I that you may think what you please of me I well there! I'm in love with Elena. 'You in love with Elena! repeated Bersenyev, standing still. 'Yes, pursued Shubin with affected carelessness. 'Does that astonish you?
'How did you like your new acquaintances? Bersenyev inquired of Insarov on their way home. 'I liked them very much, answered Insarov, 'especially the daughter. She must be a nice girl. She is excitable, but in her it's a fine kind of excitability. 'You must go and see them a little oftener, observed Bersenyev. 'Yes, I must, said Insarov; and he said nothing more all the way home.
'Can it be that all will come to nothing? And he was filled with pity for the young life struck down, and he vowed to himself to save it. The night was an uneasy one. The sick man was very delirious. Several times Bersenyev got up from his little sofa, approached the bed on tip-toe, and listened with a heavy heart to his disconnected muttering.
Dull solemnity and aggressiveness, obstinacy, clumsiness and narrowness were simply printed on the visage of the 'sire of the woolly flock, and yet the likeness to Insarov was so striking that Bersenyev could not help laughing. 'Eh? is it amusing? said Shubin. 'Do you recognise the hero? Do you advise me to send it too to the exhibition?
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