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Anna Vassilyevna met him cordially, reproached him a little for having quite forgotten them, and, finding him pale, inquired especially after his health. Nikolai Artemyevitch did not say a single word to him; he only stared at him with elaborately careless curiosity; Shubin treated him coldly; but Elena astounded him.
'Why don't you go to bed? observed Anna Vassilyevna, who was always drowsy in the evening herself, and consequently always eager to send the others to bed. 'Say good-night to me, and go in God's name; Andrei Petrovitch will excuse you. Elena kissed her mother, bowed to all and went away. Shubin accompanied her to the door.
I have had a long talk with him, which revealed a great deal. And for all that, I never saw D. so depressed. What can he... he!... be depressed by? Papa arrived home from town and came upon us two. He looked rather queerly at us. Andrei Petrovitch came; I noticed he had grown very thin and pale. He reproved me, saying I behave too coldly and inconsiderately to Shubin.
'Nikolai Artemyevitch! he shouted at the top of his voice, 'Augustina Christianovna is here and is asking for you! Nikolai Artemyevitch turned round infuriated, threatening Shubin with his fist; he stood still a minute and rapidly went out of the room. Elena fell at her mother's feet and embraced her knees. Uvar Ivanovitch was lying on his bed.
Shubin tried to get a look at Bersenyev's face, but he turned away and walked out of the lime-tree's shade. Shubin went after him, moving his little feet with easy grace. Bersenyev walked clumsily, with his shoulders high and his neck craned forward. Yet, he looked a man of finer breeding than Shubin; more of a gentleman, one might say, if that word had not been so vulgarised among us.
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?
'Yes, I am French, half French, Shubin answered, 'and you hold the happy medium between jest and earnest, as a waiter once said to me. The young men turned away from the river and went along a deep and narrow ravine between two walls of tall golden rye; a bluish shadow was cast on them from the rye on one side; the flashing sunlight seemed to glide over the tops of the ears; the larks were singing, the quails were calling: on all sides was the brilliant green of the grass; a warm breeze stirred and lifted the leaves and shook the heads of the flowers.
Let us rather talk of nightingales and roses, youthful eyes and smiles. 'Yes; and of French novels, and of feminine frills and fal-lals, Elena went on. 'Fal-lals, too, of course, rejoined Shubin, 'if they're pretty. 'Of course. But suppose we don't want to talk of frills? You are always boasting of being a free artist; why do you encroach on the freedom of others?
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.
Only she felt sorry for them all. 'What are they living for? she thought. 'Are you sleepy, Lenotchka? her mother asked her. She did not hear the question. 'A half untrue insinuation, do you say? These words, sharply uttered by Shubin, suddenly awakened Elena's attention. 'Why, he continued, 'the whole sting lies in that.
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