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'Will you go to the devil! I shouted, stamping, 'and send me a second; I don't mean to talk to you. 'Kindly refrain from telling me what to do, Asanov retorted frigidly; 'but I certainly will send a second to you. He went away. I fell on the sofa and hid my face in my hands. Some one touched me on the shoulder; I moved my hands before me was standing Pasinkov.
He was very discreet, but severe in his behaviour, confident in his criticisms and utterances, and dignified in his silence. It was obvious that he thought a great deal of himself. Asanov rarely laughed, and then with closed teeth, and he never danced. He was rather loosely and clumsily built. He had at one time served in the th regiment, and was spoken of as a capable officer.
The unlooked-for discovery I had made astonished me the more as Asanov was not often at the Zlotnitskys' house, much less so than I, and had shown no marked preference for Sonitchka. He was a handsome, dark fellow, with expressive but rather heavy features, with brilliant, prominent eyes, with a large white forehead, and full red lips under fine moustaches.
Everything that each of us kept hidden in his heart and who is there that has not something hidden in his heart? came to the surface. Our host's face suddenly lost its modest and reserved expression; his eyes shone with a brazen-faced impudence, and a vulgar grin curved his lips; the light-haired gentleman laughed in a feeble way, with a senseless crow; but Asanov surprised me more than any one.
'Why, do you think it better to keep this folly up, to bring ruin on yourself, and disgrace on the girl? 'But what are you going to say to Asanov? 'I'll try and explain things to him, I'll tell him you beg his forgiveness ... 'But I don't want to apologise to him! 'You don't? Why, aren't you in fault?
The door on to the stairs was opened.... I listened.... Asanov was asking my servant if I were at home. Pasinkov got up; he did not care for Asanov, and telling me in a whisper that he would go and lie down on my bed, he went into my bedroom. A minute later Asanov entered.
A flower, a crimson flower there's Sophia.... Oh, the bells are ringing, the frost is crackling.... Ah, no; it's the stupid bullfinches hopping in the bushes, whistling.... See, the redthroats! Cold.... Ah! here's Asanov.... Oh yes, of course, he's a cannon, a copper cannon, and his gun-carriage is green. That's how it is he's liked. Is it a star has fallen?
'Yes, he went on, as though speaking to himself, 'I loved her. I never ceased to love her even when I knew her heart was Asanov's. But how bitter it was for me to know that! If she had loved you, I should at least have rejoiced for you; but Asanov.... How did he make her care for him? It was just his luck! And change her feelings, cease to care, she could not! A true heart does not change....
Asanov's insolence began to exasperate me. 'Listen, I said to him; 'if we are such poor creatures to your thinking, you'd better go and see your illustrious uncle. But possibly he's not at home to you. Asanov made me no reply, and went on passing his hand across his forehead.
Meeting two peasant girls in the wood, she sat down suddenly on the ground, called them to her, did not patronise them, but made them sit down beside her. Sophia looked at them from some distance with a cold smile, and did not go up to them. She was walking with Asanov. Zlotnitsky observed that Varvara was a regular hen for sitting. Varvara got up and walked away.
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