already slightly grey! Then she went away to her own room; how
everything smiled upon her there! With what a sense of shamefaced
triumph and tranquillity she sat down on her bed--the very bed on
which, only three hours ago, she had spent such bitter moments! 'And
yet, even then, I knew he loved me,' she thought, 'even before . . .
Ah, no! it's a sin. You are my wife,' she whispered, hiding her face
in her hands and falling on her knees.

Towards the evening, she grew more thoughtful. Sadness came upon her
at the thought that she would not soon see Insarov. He could not
without awakening suspicion remain at Bersenyev's, and so this was
what he and Elena had resolved on. Insarov was to return to Moscow and
to come over to visit them twice before the autumn; on her side she
promised to write him letters, and, if it were possible, to arrange a
meeting with him somewhere near Kuntsov. She went down to the
drawing-room to tea, and found there all the household and Shubin, who
looked at her sharply directly she came in; she tried to talk to him
in a friendly way as of old, but she dreaded his penetration, she was
afraid of herself. She felt sure that there was good reason for his
having left her alone for more than a fortnight. Soon Bersenyev
arrived, and gave Insarov's respects to Anna Vassilyevna with an
apology for having gone back to Moscow without calling to take leave
of her. Insarov's name was for the first time during the day
pronounced before Elena. She felt that she reddened; she realised at
the same time that she ought to express regret at the sudden departure
of such a pleasant acquaintance; but she could not force herself to
hypocrisy, and continued to sit without stirring or speaking, while
Anna Vassilyevna sighed and lamented. Elena tried to keep near
Bersenyev; she was not afraid of him, though he even knew part of her
secret; she was safe under his wing from Shubin, who still persisted