haved boys walk out on Sundays,' Shubin
whispered in Bersenyev's ear. Shubin himself played the fool a great
deal, ran in front, threw himself into the attitudes of famous statues,
and turned somersaults on the grass; Insarov's tranquillity did not
exactly irritate him, but it spurred him on to playing antics. 'What
a fidget you are, Frenchman!' Bersenyev said twice to him. '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. After
prolonged wanderings, with rest and chat between (Shubin had even tried
to play leap-frog with a toothless peasant they met, who did nothing but
laugh, whatever the gentlemen might do to him), the young men reached
the 'repulsive little' restaurant: the waiter almost knocked each of
them over, and did really provide them with a very bad dinner with a
sort of Balkan wine, which did not, however, prevent them from being
very jolly, as Shubin had foretold; he himself was the loudest and the
least jolly. He drank to the health of the incomprehensible but great
_Venelin_, the health of the Bulgarian king Kuma, Huma, or Hroma, who
lived somewhere about the time of Adam.

'In the ninth century,' Insarov corrected him.

'In the ninth century?' cried Shubin. 'Oh, how delightful!'

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.
Shubin ran on before them to announce their arrival.

XII

'The conquering hero Insarov will be here directly!' he shouted
triumphantly, going into the Stahovs' drawing-room, where there happened
at the instant to be only Elena and Zoya.

'_Wer_?' inquired Zoya in German. When she was taken unawares she always
used her native language. Elena drew he