'He did not tell you where he was going?'
'No.'
Elena sank into a chair.
'He has most likely gone to Moscow,' she commented, trying to seem indifferent and at the same time wondering that she should try to seem indifferent.
'I don't think so,' rejoined Bersenyev. 'He did not go alone.'
'With whom then?'
'Two people of some sort—his countrymen they must have been—came to him the day before yesterday, before dinner.'
'Bulgarians! what makes you think so?'
'Why as far as I could hear, they talked to him in some language I did not know, but Slavonic... You are always saying, Elena Nikolaevna, that there's so little mystery about Insarov; what could be more mysterious than this visit? Imagine, they came to him—and then there was shouting and quarrelling, and such savage, angry disputing.... And he shouted too.'
'He shouted too?'
'Yes. He shouted at them. They seemed to be accusing each other. And if you could have had a peep at these visitors. They had swarthy, heavy faces with high cheek bones and hook noses, both about forty years old, shabbily dressed, hot and dusty, looking like workmen—not workmen, and not gentlemen—goodness knows what sort of people they were.'
'And he went away with them?'
'Yes. He gave them something to eat and went off with them. The woman of the house told me they ate a whole huge pot of porridge between the two of them. They outdid one another, she said, and gobbled it up like wolves.'
Elena gave a faint smile.
'You will see,' she said, 'all this will be explained into something very prosaic.'
'I hope it may! But you need not use that word. There is nothing prosaic about Insarov, though Shubin does maintain——'
'Shubin!' Elena broke in, shrugging her shoulders. 'But you must confess these two good men gobbling up porridge——'
'Even Themistocles had his supper on the eve of Salamis,' observed Bersenyev with a smile.
'Yes; but then there was a battle next day. Any way you will let me know when he comes back,' said Elena, and she tried to change the subject, but the conversation made little progress. Zoya made her appearance and began walking about the room on tip-toe, giving them thereby to understand that Anna Vassilyevna was not yet awake.
Bersenyev went away.
In the evening of the same day a note from him was brought to Elena. 'He has come back,' he wrote to her, 'sunburnt and dusty to his very eyebrows; but where and why he went I don't know; won't you find out?'
'Won't you find out!' Elena whispered, 'as though he talked to me!'
XIV
The next day, at two o'clock, Elena was standing in the garden before a small kennel, where she was rearing two puppies. (A gardener had found them deserted under a hedge, and brought them to the young mistress, being told by the laundry-maids that she took pity on beasts of all sorts. He was not wrong in his reckoning. Elena had given him a quarter-rouble.) She looked into the kennel, assured herself that the puppies were alive and well, and that they had been provided with fresh straw, turned round, and almost uttered a cry; down an alley straight towards her was walking Insarov, alone.
'Good-morning,' he said, coming up to her and taking off his cap. She noticed that he certainly had got much sunburnt during the last three days. 'I meant to have come here with Andrei Petrovitch, but he was rather slow in starting; so here I am without him. There is no one in your house; they are all asleep or out of doors, so I came on here.'
'You seem to be apologising,' replied Elena. 'There's no need to do that. We are always very glad to see you. Let us sit here on the bench in the shade.'
She seated herself. Insarov sat down near her.
'You have not been at home these last days, I think?' she began.
'No,' he answered. 'I went away. Did Andrei Petrovitch tell you?'
Insarov looked at her, smiled, and began playing with his cap. When he smiled, his eyes blinked, and his lips puckered up, which gave him a very good-humoured appearance.
'Andrei Petrovitch most likely told you too that I went away with some—unattractive people,' he said, still smiling.
Elena was a little confused, but she felt at once that Insarov must always be told the truth.
'Yes,' she said decisively.
'What did you think of me?' he asked her suddenly.
Elena raised her eyes to him.
'I thought,' she said, 'I thought that you always know what you're doing, and you are incapable of doing anything wrong.'
'Well—thanks for that. You see, Elena Nikolaevna,' he began, coming closer to her in a confidential way, 'there is a little family of our people here; among us there are men of little culture; but all are warmly devoted to the common cause. Unluckily, one can never get on without dissensions, and they all know me, and trust me; so they sent for me to settle a dispute. I went.'
'Was it far from here?'
'I went about fifty miles, to the Troitsky district. There, near the monastery, there are some of our people. At any rate, my trouble was not thrown away; I settled the matter.'
'And had you much difficulty?'
'Yes. One was obstinate through everything. He did not want to give back the money.'
'What? Was the dispute over money?'
'Yes; and a small sum of money too. What did you suppose?'
'And you travelled over fifty miles for such trifling matters? Wasted three days?'
'They are not trifling matters, Elena Nikolaevna, when my countrymen are involved. It would be wicked to refuse in such cases. I see here that you don't refuse help even to puppies, and I think well of you for it. And as for the time I have lost, that's no great harm; I will make it up later. Our time does not belong to us.'
'To whom does it belong then?'
'Why, to all who need us. I have told you all this on the spur of the moment, because I value your good opinion. I can fancy how Andrei Petrovitch must have made you wonder!'
'You value my good opinion,' said Elena, in an undertone, 'why?'
Insarov smiled again.
'Because you are a good young lady, not an aristocrat... that's all.'
A short silence followed.
'Dmitri Nikanorovitch,' said Elena, 'do you know that this is the first time you have been so unreserved with me?'
'How's that? I think I have always said everything I thought to you.'
'No, this is the first time, and I am very glad, and I too want to be open with you. May I?'
Insarov began to laugh and said: 'You may.'
'I warn you I am very inquisitive.'
'Never mind, tell me.'
'Andrei Petrovitch has told me a great deal of your life, of your youth. I know of one event, one awful event....
