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Updated: June 22, 2025
Insarov sat down, not on the sofa, but on the floor at her feet. 'Come, take off my gloves, she said in an uncertain voice. She felt afraid. He began first to unbutton and then to draw off one glove; he drew it half off and greedily pressed his lips to the slender, soft wrist, which was white under it.
Twelve o'clock had long ago struck; and the driver had already brought round the horses, but the 'young people' still did not appear. At last hurrying steps were heard on the stairs, and Elena came out escorted by Insarov and Shubin. Elena's eyes were red; she had left her mother lying unconscious; the parting had been terrible.
Elena shrugged her shoulders, reluctantly held out her hand to him not the one Insarov had kissed and going up to her room, at once undressed, got into bed, and fell asleep. She slept a deep, unstirring sleep, as even children rarely sleep the sleep of a child convalescent after sickness, when its mother sits near its cradle and watches it, and listens to its breathing.
'That's as much as to say, pine-apples are not necessary; but you need not be alarmed; there will always be plenty of people who like them enough to take the bread out of other men's mouths to get them. Both friends were silent a little. 'I met Insarov again the other day, began Bersenyev. 'I invited him to stay with me; I really must introduce him to you and to the Stahovs. 'Who is Insarov?
She wrote two little notes to Insarov, and carried them herself to the post: she could not for anything through shame and through pride have brought herself to confide in a maid. She was already beginning to expect him in person.... But instead of Insarov, one fine morning Nikolai Artemyevitch made his appearance.
'While you didn't even do that, retorted Bersenyev, and he started homewards with Insarov. The dawn was already showing in the sky when the two friends reached their lodging.
'Why as far as I could hear, they talked to him in some language I did not know, but Slavonic... You are always saying, Elena Nikolaevna, that there's so little mystery about Insarov; what could be more mysterious than this visit? Imagine, they came to him and then there was shouting and quarrelling, and such savage, angry disputing.... And he shouted too. 'He shouted too? 'Yes.
'So that, if you were cut off all chance of returning to Bulgaria, continued Elena, 'would you be very unhappy in Russia? Insarov looked down. 'I think I could not bear that, he said. 'Tell me, Elena began again, 'is it difficult to learn Bulgarian? 'Not at all. It's a disgrace to a Russian not to know Bulgarian. A Russian ought to know all the Slavonic dialects.
Everything's bright in the future, isn't it? 'You are for me in the future, answered Insarov, 'so it is bright for me. 'And for me too! But do you remember, when I was here, not the last time no, not the last time, she repeated with an involuntary shudder, 'when we were talking, I spoke of death, I don't know why; I never suspected then that it was keeping watch on us.
'Fancy, he began with a constrained smile, 'our Insarov has disappeared. 'Disappeared? said Elena. 'He has disappeared. The day before yesterday he went off somewhere and nothing has been seen of him since. 'He did not tell you where he was going? 'No. Elena sank into a chair.
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