was cast upwards on the trees, showing up sharply the whitish
undersides of the thick growing leaves. A girl, who looked like a
maid-servant, was standing in the shop with her back against the
doorpost, bargaining with the shopkeeper; from beneath the red
kerchief which she had wrapped round her head, and held with bare hand
under her chin, could just be seen her round cheek and slender throat.
The young men stepped into the patch of light; Shubin looked into the
shop, stopped short, and cried 'Annushka!' The girl turned round
quickly. They saw a nice-looking, rather broad but fresh face, with
merry brown eyes and black eyebrows. 'Annushka!' repeated Shubin.
The girl saw him, looked scared and shamefaced, and without finishing
her purchases, she hurried down the steps, slipped quickly past, and,
hardly looking round, went along the road to the left. The shopkeeper,
a puffy man, unmoved by anything in the world, like all country
shopkeepers gasped and gaped after her, while Shubin turned to
Bersenyev with the words: 'That's . . . you see . . . there's a
family here I know . . . so at their house . . . you mustn't imagine'
. . . and, without finishing his speech, he ran after the retreating
girl.

'You'd better at least wipe your tears away,' Bersenyev shouted after
him, and he could not refrain from laughing. But when he got home, his
face had not a mirthful expression; he laughed no longer. He had not
for a single instant believed what Shubin had told him, but the words
he had uttered had sunk deep into his soul.

'Pavel was making a fool of me,' he thought; ' . . . but she will
love one day . . . whom will she love?'

In Bersenyev's room there was a piano, small, and by no means new, but