‘And why not a lecture?’ put in Elena. ‘You and I are in need of lectures, Pavel Yakovlitch.’ Shubin stared at her, and suddenly burst out laughing. ‘What are you laughing at?’ she said coldly, and almost sharply. Shubin did not answer. ‘Come, don’t be angry,’ he said, after a short pause. ‘I am sorry. But really it’s a strange taste, upon my word, to discuss philosophy in weather like this under these trees. Let us rather talk of nightingales and roses, youthful eyes and smiles.’ ‘Yes; and of French novels, and of feminine frills and fal-lals,’ Elena went on. ‘Fal-lals, too, of course,’ rejoined Shubin, ‘if they’re pretty.’ ‘Of course. But suppose we don’t want to talk of frills? You are always boasting of being a free artist; why do you encroach on the freedom of others? And allow me to inquire, if that’s your bent of mind, why do you attack Zoya? With her it would be peculiarly suitable to talk of frills and roses?’ Shubin suddenly fired up, and rose from the garden seat. ‘So that’s it?’ he began in a nervous voice. ‘I understand your hint; you want to send me away to her, Elena Nikolaevna. In other words, I’m not wanted here.’ ‘I never thought of sending you away from here.’ ‘Do you mean to say,’ Shubin continued passionately, ‘that I am not worthy of other society, that I am her equal; that I am as vain, and silly and petty as that mawkish German girl? Is that it?’ Elena frowned. ‘You did not always speak like that of her, Pavel Yakovlitch,’ she remarked. ‘Ah! reproaches! reproaches now!’ cried Shubin. ‘Well, then I don’t deny there was a moment--one moment precisely, when those fresh, vulgar cheeks of hers... But if I wanted to repay you with reproaches and remind you... Good-bye,’ he added suddenly, ‘I feel I shall say something silly.’ And with a blow on the clay moulded into the shape of a head, he ran out of the arbour and went off to his room. ‘What a baby,’ said Elena, looking after him. ‘He’s an artist,’ observed Bersenyev with a quiet smile. ‘All artists are like that. One must forgive them their caprices. That is their privilege.’ ‘Yes,’ replied Elena; ‘but Pavel has not so far justified his claim to that privilege in any way. What has he done so far? Give me your arm, and let us go along the avenue. He was in our way. We were talking of your father’s works.’