saying: 'a drowning man catches at straws.' They waked him up; he came
down, listened in silence to Anna Vassilyevna's proposition, and, to
the general astonishment, with a flourish of his fingers, he consented
to go. Anna Vassilyevna kissed him on the cheek, and called him a
darling; Nikolai Artemyevitch smiled contemptuously and said: _quelle
bourde!_ (he liked on occasions to make use of a 'smart' French word);
and the following morning the coach and the open carriage,
well-packed, rolled out of the Stahovs' court-yard. In the coach were
the ladies, a maid, and Bersenyev; Insarov was seated on the box; and
in the open carriage were Uvar Ivanovitch and Shubin. Uvar Ivanovitch
had himself beckoned Shubin to him; he knew that he would tease him
the whole way, but there existed a queer sort of attachment, marked by
abusive candour, between the 'primeval force' and the young artist. On
this occasion, however, Shubin left his fat friend in peace; he was
absent-minded, silent, and gentle.

The sun stood high in a cloudless blue sky when the carriage drove up
to the ruins of Tsaritsino Castle, which looked gloomy and menacing,
even at mid-day. The whole party stepped out on to the grass, and at
once made a move towards the garden. In front went Elena and Zoya with
Insarov; Anna Vassilyevna, with an expression of perfect happiness on
her face, walked behind them, leaning on the arm of Uvar Ivanovitch.
He waddled along panting, his new straw hat cut his forehead, and his
feet twinged in his boots, but he was content; Shubin and Bersenyev
brought up the rear. 'We will form the reserve, my dear boy, like
veterans,' whispered Shubin to Bersenyev. 'Bulgaria's in it now!' he
added, indicating Elena with his eyebrows.

The weather was glorious. Everything around was flowering, humming,
singing; in the distance shone the waters of the lakes; a