‘Because you have dared to annoy a lady,’ said Insarov, and suddenly he turned white, ‘because you’re drunk.’ ‘Eh? me drunk? Hear what he says. _Hören Sie das, Herr Provisor_? I’m an officer, and he dares... Now I demand _satisfaction_! _Einen Kuss will ich_.’ ‘If you come another step nearer----’ began Insarov. ‘Well? What then’ ‘I’ll throw you in the water!’ ‘In the water? _Herr Je_! Is that all? Well, let us see that, that would be very curious, too.’ The officer lifted his fists and moved forward, but suddenly something extraordinary happened. He uttered an exclamation, his whole bulky person staggered, rose from the ground, his legs kicking in the air, and before the ladies had time to shriek, before any one had time to realise how it had happened, the officer’s massive figure went plop with a heavy splash, and at once disappeared under the eddying water. ‘Oh!’ screamed the ladies with one voice. ‘_Mein Gott_!’ was heard from the other side. An instant passed... and a round head, all plastered over with wet hair, showed above water, it was blowing bubbles, this head; and floundering with two hands just at its very lips. ‘He will be drowned, save him! save him!’ cried Anna Vassilyevna to Insarov, who was standing with his legs apart on the bank, breathing heavily. ‘He will swim out,’ he answered with contemptuous and unsympathetic indifference. ‘Let us go on,’ he added, taking Anna Vassilyevna by the arm. ‘Come, Uvar Ivanovitch, Elena Nikolaevna.’ ‘A--a--o--o’ was heard at that instant, the plaint of the hapless German who had managed to get hold of the rushes on the bank. They all followed Insarov, and had to pass close by the party. But, deprived of their leader, the rowdies were subdued and did not utter a word; but one, the boldest of them, muttered, shaking his head menacingly: ‘All right... we shall see though... after that’; but one of the others even took his hat off. Insarov struck them as formidable, and rightly so; something evil, something dangerous could be seen in his face. The Germans hastened to pull out their comrade, who, directly he had his feet on dry ground, broke into tearful abuse and shouted after the ‘Russian scoundrels,’ that he would make a complaint, that he would go to Count Von Kizerits himself, and so on.