‘Which was to be proved,’ said Shubin with comical dejection. ‘After which I suppose it would be more seemly for me not to intrude on your solitary walk. A professor would ask you on what data you founded your answer no. I’m not a professor though, but a baby according to your ideas; but one does not turn one’s back on a baby, remember. Good-bye! Peace to my ashes!’ Elena was on the point of stopping him, but after a moment’s thought she too said: ‘Good-bye.’ Shubin went out of the courtyard. At a short distance from the Stahov’s house he was met by Bersenyev. He was walking with hurried steps, his head bent and his hat pushed back on his neck. ‘Andrei Petrovitch!’ cried Shubin. He stopped. ‘Go on, go on,’ continued Shubin, ‘I only shouted, I won’t detain you--and you’d better slip straight into the garden--you’ll find Elena there, I fancy she’s waiting for you... she’s waiting for some one anyway.... Do you understand the force of those words: she is waiting! And do you know, my dear boy, an astonishing circumstance? Imagine, it’s two years now that I have been living in the same house with her, I’m in love with her, and it’s only just now, this minute, that I’ve, not understood, but really seen her. I have seen her and I lifted up my hands in amazement. Don’t look at me, please, with that sham sarcastic smile, which does not suit your sober features. Well, now, I suppose you want to remind me of Annushka. What of it? I don’t deny it. Annushkas are on my poor level. And long life to all Annushkas and Zoyas and even Augustina Christianovnas! You go to Elena now, and I will make my way to--Annushka, you fancy? No, my dear fellow, worse than that; to Prince Tchikurasov. He is a Maecenas of a Kazan-Tartar stock, after the style of Volgin. Do you see this note of invitation, these letters, R.S.V.P.? Even in the country there’s no peace for me. Addio!’ Bersenyev listened to Shubin’s tirade in silence, looking as though he were just a little ashamed of him. Then he went into the courtyard of the Stahovs’ house. And Shubin did really go to Prince Tchikurasov, to whom with the most cordial air he began saying the most insulting things. The Maecenas of the Tartars of Kazan chuckled; the Maecenas’s guests laughed, but no one felt merry, and every one was in a bad temper when the party broke up. So two gentlemen slightly acquainted may be seen when they meet on the Nevsky Prospect suddenly grinning at one another and pursing up their eyes and noses and cheeks, and then, directly they have passed one another, they resume their former indifferent, often cross, and generally sickly, expression. X