Suddenly a shriek was heard in front; every one looked up. Shubin’s cigar-case fell into a bush, flung by Zoya’s hand. ‘Wait a minute, I’ll pay you out!’ he shouted, as he crept into the bushes; he found his cigar-case, and was returning to Zoya; but he had hardly reached her side when again his cigar-case was sent flying across the road. Five times this trick was repeated, he kept laughing and threatening her, but Zoya only smiled slyly and drew herself together, like a little cat. At last he snatched her fingers, and squeezed them so tightly that she shrieked, and for a long time afterwards breathed on her hand, pretending to be angry, while he murmured something in her ears. ‘Mischievous things, young people,’ Anna Vassilyevna observed gaily to Uvar Ivanovitch. He flourished his fingers in reply. ‘What a girl Zoya Nikitishna is!’ said Bersenyev to Elena. ‘And Shubin? What of him?’ she answered. Meanwhile the whole party went into the arbour, well known as Pleasant View arbour, and stopped to admire the view of the Tsaritsino lakes. They stretched one behind the other for several miles, overshadowed by thick woods. The bright green grass, which covered the hill sloping down to the largest lake, gave the water itself an extraordinarily vivid emerald colour. Even at the water’s edge not a ripple stirred the smooth surface. One might fancy it a solid mass of glass lying heavy and shining in a huge font; the sky seemed to drop into its depths, while the leafy trees gazed motionless into its transparent bosom. All were absorbed in long and silent admiration of the view; even Shubin was still; even Zoya was impressed. At last, all with one mind, began to wish to go upon the water. Shubin, Insarov, and Bersenyev raced each other over the grass. They succeeded in finding a large painted boat and two boatmen, and beckoned to the ladies. The ladies stepped into the boat; Uvar Ivanovitch cautiously lowered himself into it after them. Great was the mirth while he got in and took his seat. ‘Look out, master, don’t drown us,’ observed one of the boatmen, a snubnosed young fellow in a gay print shirt. ‘Get along, you swell!’ said Uvar Ivanovitch. The boat pushed off. The young men took up the oars, but Insarov was the oniy one of them who could row. Shubin suggested that they should sing some Russian song in chorus, and struck up: ‘Down the river Volga’... Bersenyev, Zoya, and even Anna Vassilyevna, joined in--Insarov could not sing--but they did not keep together; at the third verse the singers were all wrong. Only Bersenyev tried to go on in the bass, ‘Nothing on the waves is seen,’ but he, too, was soon in difficulties. The boatmen looked at one another and grinned in silence.