felt filled with boundless goodwill and kindness, and wanted to keep
not only Insarov, but Bersenyev too, always at her side. . . . Andrei
Petrovitch dimly understood what this meant, and secretly he sighed.

The hours flew by; the evening was coming on. Anna Vassilyevna
suddenly took alarm. 'Ah, my dear friends, how late it is!' she
cried. 'All good things must have an end; it's time to go home.' She
began bustling about, and they all hastened to get up and walk towards
the castle, where the carriages were. As they walked past the lakes,
they stopped to admire Tsaritsino for the last time. The landscape on
all sides was glowing with the vivid hues of early evening; the sky
was red, the leaves were flashing with changing colours as they
stirred in the rising wind; the distant waters shone in liquid gold;
the reddish turrets and arbours scattered about the garden stood out
sharply against the dark green of the trees. 'Farewell, Tsaritsino, we
shall not forget to-day's excursion!' observed Anna Vassilyevna. . . .
But at that instant, and as though in confirmation of her words, a
strange incident occurred, which certainly was not likely to be
forgotten,

This was what happened. Anna Vassilyevna had hardly sent her farewell
greeting to Tsaritsino, when suddenly, a few paces from her, behind a
high bush of lilac, were heard confused exclamations, shouts, and
laughter; and a whole mob of disorderly men, the same devotees of
song who had so energetically applauded Zoya, burst out on the path.
These musical gentlemen seemed excessively elevated. They stopped at
the sight of the ladies; but one of them, a man of immense height,
with a bull neck and a bull's goggle eyes, separated from his
companions, and, bowing clumsily and staggering unsteadily in his
gait, approached Anna Vassilyevna, who was petrified with alarm.