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'You and I are in need of lectures, Pavel Yakovlitch. Shubin stared at her, and suddenly burst out laughing. 'What are you laughing at? she said coldly, and almost sharply. Shubin did not answer. 'Come, don't be angry, he said, after a short pause. 'I am sorry. But really it's a strange taste, upon my word, to discuss philosophy in weather like this under these trees.
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.
He drank to the health of the incomprehensible but great Venelin, the health of the Bulgarian king Kuma, Huma, or Hroma, who lived somewhere about the time of Adam. 'In the ninth century, Insarov corrected him. 'In the ninth century? cried Shubin. 'Oh, how delightful!
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.
But he ran up and said, "I would not be angry," says he, "if you refused to recognise me, but why should you turn your back on me? Perhaps I have been brought to this through grief. Peace to my ashes!" Shubin paused. 'And is that all? inquired Elena. 'Yes that's all. 'I don't understand you. What are you hinting at? You told me just now not to look your way.
The boatmen looked at one another and grinned in silence. 'Eh? said Shubin, turning to them, 'the gentlefolks can't sing, you say? The boy in the print shirt only shook his head. 'Wait a little snubnose, retorted Shubin, 'we will show you. Zoya Nikitishna, sing us Le lac of Niedermeyer.
First Shubin exploded, shrieking as if he were mad, Bersenyev followed with his gurgling guffaw, then Zoya fell into thin tinkling little trills, Anna Vassilyevna too suddenly broke down, Elena could not help smiling, and even Insarov at last could not resist it. But the loudest, longest, most persistent laugh was Uvar Ivanovitch's; he laughed till his sides ached, till he choked and panted.
'Yes, I have, by God, rejoined Shubin; and suddenly grinning and brightening, 'but I didn't like it, my dear boy, the stuff sticks in my throat, and my head afterwards is a perfect drum. The great Lushtchihin himself Harlampy Lushtchihin the greatest drunkard in Moscow, and a Great Russian drunkard too, declared there was nothing to be made of me. In his words, the bottle does not speak to me.
Elena tried to read, then to sew, then to read again, then she vowed to herself to walk a hundred times up and down one alley, and paced it a hundred times; then for a long time she watched Anna Vassilyevna laying out the cards for patience... and looked at the clock; it was not yet ten. Shubin came into the drawing-room.
It was a conversation diversified by plenty of subjects; but broken by short rather wearisome pauses every three minutes. In one of these pauses Anna Vassilyevna turned to Zoya. Shubin understood her silent hint, and drew a long face, while Zoya sat down to the piano, and played and sang all her pieces through.
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