"Really?" Von Koren asked coldly, choosing the biggest stone by the
side of the water, and trying to clamber up and sit upon it. "Really?"
he repeated, looking directly at Laevsky. "What of 'Romeo and
Juliet'? Or, for instance, Pushkin's 'Night in the Ukraine'? Nature
ought to come and bow down at their feet."

"Perhaps," said Laevsky, who was too lazy to think and oppose him.
"Though what is 'Romeo and Juliet' after all?" he added after a
short pause. "The beauty of poetry and holiness of love are simply
the roses under which they try to hide its rottenness. Romeo is
just the same sort of animal as all the rest of us."

"Whatever one talks to you about, you always bring it round to
. . ." Von Koren glanced round at Katya and broke off.

"What do I bring it round to?" asked Laevsky.

"One tells you, for instance, how beautiful a bunch of grapes is,
and you answer: 'Yes, but how ugly it is when it is chewed and
digested in one's stomach!' Why say that? It's not new, and . . .
altogether it is a queer habit."

Laevsky knew that Von Koren did not like him, and so was afraid of
him, and felt in his presence as though every one were constrained
and some one were standing behind his back. He made no answer and
walked away, feeling sorry he had come.

"Gentlemen, quick march for brushwood for the fire!" commanded
Samoylenko.