'Whom? You!' cried Shubin, slapping Bersenyev on the shoulder.

'Me!'

'You,' repeated Shubin.

Bersenyev stepped back a pace, and stood motionless. Shubin looked
intently at him.

'And does that astonish you? You are a modest youth. But she loves
you. You can make your mind easy on that score.'

'What nonsense you talk!' Bersenyev protested at last with an air of
vexation.

'No, it's not nonsense. But why are we standing still? Let us go on.
It's easier to talk as we walk. I have known her a long while, and I
know her well. I cannot be mistaken. You are a man after her own
heart. There was a time when she found me agreeable; but, in the
first place, I am too frivolous a young man for her, while you are a
serious person, you are a morally and physically well-regulated
person, you--hush, I have not finished, you are a conscientiously
disposed enthusiast, a genuine type of those devotees of science,
of whom--no not of whom--whereof the middle class of Russian gentry
are so justly proud! And, secondly, Elena caught me the other day
kissing Zoya's arms!'

'Zoya's?'