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Updated: May 22, 2025
'Stay, she said, fondly taking her hand away from him, 'let me take off my hat. She untied the strings of her hat, flung it down, slipped the cape off her shoulders, tidied her hair, and sat down on the little old sofa. Insarov gazed at her, without stirring, like one enchanted. 'Sit down, she said, not lifting her eyes to him and motioning him to a place beside her.
One day Bersenyev had just informed her with a cheerful face that the doctor had already allowed Insarov to eat a cutlet, and that he would probably soon go out; she seemed absorbed, dropped her eyes. 'Guess, what I want to say to you, she said. Bersenyev was confused. He understood her. 'I suppose, he answered, looking away, 'you want to say that you wish to see him.
But, can friends part like this? And we are friends, aren't we? 'No, said Insarov. 'What? murmured Elena. Her cheeks were overspread with a faint flush. 'That's just why I am going away because we are not friends. Don't force me into saying what I don't want to say, and what I won't say. 'You used to be so open with me, said Elena rather reproachfully. 'Do you remember?
On the broad lagoon which separates Venice from the narrow strip of accumulated sea sand, called the Lido, a gondola was gliding swaying rhythmically at every push made by the gondolier as he leaned on the big pole. Under its low awning, on soft leather cushions, were sitting Elena and Insarov.
Bersenyev noticed that among all his pranks, and jests and gaiety, Shubin was constantly, as it were, examining Insarov; he was sounding him and was in inward excitement, but Insarov remained as before, calm and straightforward. At last they returned home, changed their dress, and resolved to finish the day as they had begun it, by going that evening to the Stahovs.
At last the man himself came in: he seemed to understand everything from the first, and only said gloomily: 'Near Kuntsovo? then all at once he opened the door and shouted: 'Are you going to keep the lodgings then? Insarov reassured him. 'Well, one must know, repeated the tailor morosely, as he disappeared. Bersenyev returned home, well content with the success of his proposal.
Bersenyev drew at the pipe: 'I have even been thinking, he began again, blowing out the smoke in a thin cloud, 'that if any one could be found you, for instance, I thought of who would care, who would consent to establish himself there upstairs, how nice it would be! What do you think, Dmitri Nikanorovitch? Insarov turned his little eyes on him. 'You propose my staying in your country house?
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.
Insarov stared, and the old man grew wide and thick and tall, he was no longer a man, he was a tree.... Insarov had to climb along its gnarled branches.
Insarov had really made less impression on Elena than she had expected, or, speaking more exactly, he had not made the impression she had expected. She liked his directness and unconstraint, and she liked his face; but the whole character of Insarov with his calm firmness and everyday simplicity did not somehow accord with the image formed in her brain by Bersenyev's account of him.
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