you think
that I am not capable even of weeping sincerely, that I'm a gossip and
a slanderer,--and all because I'm an artist. What luckless, God-forsaken
wretches we artists are after that! You, for instance, I am ready to
adore, and you don't believe in my repentance.'

'No, Pavel Yakovlitch, I believe in your repentance and I believe in
your tears. But it seems to me that even your repentance amuses you--yes
and your tears too.'

Shubin shuddered.

'Well, I see this is, as the doctors say, a hopeless case, _casus
incurabilis_. There is nothing left but to bow the head and submit. And
meanwhile, good Heavens, can it be true, can I possibly be absorbed in
my own egoism when there is a soul like this living at my side? And to
know that one will never penetrate into that soul, never will know
why it grieves and why it rejoices, what is working within it, what it
desires--whither it is going... Tell me,' he said after a short silence,
'could you never under any circumstances love an artist?'

Elena looked straight into his eyes.

'I don't think so, Pavel Yakovlitch; no.'

'Which was to be proved,' said Shubin with comical dejection. 'After
which I suppose it would be more seemly for me not to intrude on your
solitary walk. A professor would ask you on what data you founded your
answer no. I'm not a professor though, but a baby according to your
ideas; but one does not turn one's back on a baby, remember. Good-bye!
Peace to my ashes!'

Elena was on the point of stopping him, but after a moment's thought she
too said:

'Good-bye.'

Shubin went out of the courtyard. At a short distance from the Stahov's
house he was met by Bersenyev. He was walking with hurried steps, his
head bent and his hat pushed back on his neck.

'Andrei Petrovitch!' cried Shubin.

He stopped.

'Go on, go on,' continued Shubin, 'I only shouted, I won't detain
you--and you'd better slip straight into the garden--you'll find Elena
there, I fancy she's waiting for you... she's waiting for some one
anyway.... Do you understand the force of those words: she is waiting!
And do you know, my dear boy, an astonishing circumstance? Imagine, it's
two years now that I have been living in the same house with her, I'm
in love with her, and it's only just now, this minute, that I've, not
understood, but really seen her. I have seen her and I lifted up my
hands in amazement. Don't look at me, please, with that sham sarcastic
smile, which does not suit