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Updated: May 22, 2025
She talked a great deal about him to Bersenyev. Bersenyev realised that Elena's imagination had been struck by Insarov, and was glad that his friend had not 'missed fire' as Shubin had asserted. One day Bersenyev came to the Stahovs, not at the customary time, but at eleven o'clock in the morning. Elena came down to him in the parlour.
'You can't stop longer? asked Insarov. 'No, dearest. Do you think it's easy for me to get out alone? The quarter of an hour was over long ago. She put on her cape and hat. 'And you come to us to-morrow evening. No, the day after to-morrow. We shall be constrained and dreary, but we can't help that; at least we shall see each other. Good-bye. Let me go. He embraced her for the last time.
'Lenotchka, come here, said Anna Vassilyevna, 'look, what a charming reticule. 'I worked it myself, observed the priest's wife. Elena came away from the window. Insarov did not stay more than a quarter of an hour at the Stahovs'. Elena watched him secretly. He was restless and ill at ease. As before, he did not know where to look, and he went away strangely and suddenly; he seemed to vanish.
Towards morning Insarov revived for a few minutes, recognised Bersenyev, asked: 'Am I ill, then? looked about him with the vague, listless bewilderment of a man dangerously ill, and again relapsed into unconsciousness. Bersenyev went home, changed his clothes, and, taking a few books along with him, he returned to Insarov's lodgings. He made up his mind to stay there, at least for a time.
At that instant Insarov uttered a slight moan; she trembled all over, clutched at her head, then began untying the strings of her hat. 'What are you doing? Bersenyev asked her. 'I will stay here. 'You will stay for long? 'I don't know, perhaps all day, the night, always I don't know. 'For God's sake, Elena Nikolaevna, control yourself.
'He was not to blame, said Elena, 'you know, they have no other place where they can ride. 'He was not to blame, answered Insarov 'but he made my blood boil with his shout, his moustaches, his cap, his whole appearance. Let us go back. 'Yes, let us go back, Dmitri. It's really cold here. You did not take care of yourself after your Moscow illness, and you had to pay for that at Vienna.
Her position in her parents' house had become insupportable. Her mother mourned over her, as over the dead, while her father treated her with contemptuous coldness; the approaching separation secretly pained him too, but he regarded it as his duty the duty of an offended father to disguise his feelings, his weakness. Anna Vassilyevna at last expressed a wish to see Insarov.
The hotel where Insarov and Elena were staying was on the Riva dei Schiavoni; before they reached it they left the gondola, and walked several times round the Square of St. Mark, under the arches, where numbers of holiday makers were gathered before the tiny cafes.
At a picnic, the ladies are insulted by a colossal German, even as Gemma is insulted by a German in "Torrents of Spring." Insarov is not a conventional person, but he immediately performs an act that is exceedingly conventional in fiction, though rare enough in real life.
She got up, put on her hat and gloves, threw a cape over her shoulders, and, slipping unnoticed out of the house, she went with swift steps along the road leading to Bersenyev's lodging. Elena walked with her head bent and her eyes fixed straight before her. She feared nothing, she considered nothing; she wanted to see Insarov once more.
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