his new straw hat cut his forehead, and his feet
twinged in his boots, but he was content; Shubin and Bersenyev brought
up the rear. 'We will form the reserve, my dear boy, like veterans,'
whispered Shubin to Bersenyev. 'Bulgaria's in it now!' he added,
indicating Elena with his eyebrows.

The weather was glorious. Everything around was flowering, humming,
singing; in the distance shone the waters of the lakes; a light-hearted
holiday mood took possession of all. 'Oh, how beautiful; oh, how
beautiful!' Anna Vassilyevna repeated incessantly; Uvar Ivanovitch
kept nodding his head approvingly in response to her enthusiastic
exclamations, and once even articulated: 'To be sure! to be sure!' From
time to time Elena exchanged a few words with Insarov; Zoya held the
brim of her large hat with two fingers while her little feet, shod in
light grey shoes with rounded toes, peeped coquettishly out from under
her pink barege dress; she kept looking to each side and then behind
her. 'Hey!' cried Shubin suddenly in a low voice, 'Zoya Nikitishna is
on the lookout, it seems. I will go to her. Elena Nikolaevna despises me
now, while you, Andrei Petrovitch, she esteems, which comes to the same
thing. I am going; I'm tired of being glum. I should advise you, my dear
fellow, to do some botanising; that's the best thing you could hit on in
your position; it might be useful, too, from a scientific point of
view. Farewell!' Shubin ran up to Zoya, offered her his arm, and saying:
'_Ihre Hand, Madame_' caught hold of her hand, and pushed on ahead with
her. Elena stopped, called to Bersenyev, and also took his arm,
but continued talking to Insarov. She asked him the words for
lily-of-the-valley, clover, oak, lime, and so on in his language...
'Bulgaria's in it!' thought poor Andrei Petrovitch.

Suddenly a shriek was heard in front; every one looked up. Shubin's
cigar-case fell into a bush, flung by Zoya's hand. 'Wait a minute, I'll
pay you out!' he shouted, as he crept into the bushes; he found his
cigar-case, and was returning to Zoya; but he had hardly reached her
side when again his cigar-case was sent flying across the road. Five
times this trick was repeated, he kept laughing and threatening her, but
Zoya only smiled slyly and drew herself together, like a little cat.
At last he snatched her fingers, and squeezed them so tightly that
she shrieked, and for a long time afterwards breathed on her hand,
pretending to be angry, while he murmur