On the Eve

high in the sky, the milky way shone white, and the stars spotted the heavens, when Bersenyev, after takin

?' sounded Sh

wered Be

do you

't be sulky; aren't yo

I'm asleep and dr

u're not a baby. Let me i

had talk enou

n!' Shubin responded

his shoulders and

would have liked to move quite noiselessly, to steal along in secret. A cross gust of wind blew suddenly on him; he almost shuddered, and his heart stood still; a drowsy beetle fell off a twig and dropped with a thud on the path; Bersenyev uttered a subdued 'Ah!' and again stopped. But he began to think of Elena, and all these passing sensations vanished at once; there remained only the reviving sense of the night freshness, of the wal

ffort. 'I should not have slept all night, if I had not

es

ee you ho

you come wit

took off my neckerchie

s walked a

o-day, wasn't I?' Sh

out. I have never seen you like that before. An

s to me. You see,' he went on, 'I ought to point out to you that I-that-

ena!' repeated Berse

ething else. Till this evening I still had hopes that she might come to love me in time. But t

ne else

hubin, slapping Bers

M

repeate

ce, and stood motionless. S

modest youth. But she loves you. You

Bersenyev protested at las

hen she found me agreeable; but, in the first place, I am too frivolous a young man for her, while you are a serious person, you are a morally and physically well-regulated person, you-hush, I have not finished, you are a consci

ya'

uld you have? She has

ulde

ena unfortunately doesn't understand how natural such contradictions are. Then you came on the scene, you have faith in-what the deuce is it you have faith in?... You blush and lo

, turned away, and dropping upon

v went u

r with you to-day? God knows what nonsense you have got into your head,

hone bright on his cheeks in the moonl

dy to agree with you that I'm hysterical now, but, by God, I'm in love with Elena, a

got

must be to-night for men who are loved! How sweet for

o answer, and qu

sing, take off your hat, throw up your head, and smile to the stars. They are all looking at you, at you alone; the stars never do anything but look down upon lovers-that's why they are so charming. You are in love, I suppose, Andrei Petrovitch?... You don't answer me... why don't you an

hick growing leaves. A girl, who looked like a maid-servant, was standing in the shop with her back against the doorpost, bargaining with the shopkeeper; from beneath the red kerchief which she had wrapped round her head, and held with bare hand under her chin, could just be seen her round cheek and slender throat. The young men stepped into the patch of light; Shubin looked into the shop, stopped short, and cried 'Annushka!' The girl turned round quickly. They saw a nice-looking, rather broad but fresh face, with merry brown eyes and black eyebrows. 'A

ughing. But when he got home, his face had not a mirthful expression; he laughed no longer. He had not for

he thought; '... but she will lov

music is expressed (symphonies and sonatas, even operas wearied him), but he loved the poetry of music: he loved those vague and sweet, shapeless, and all-embracing emotions which are stirred in the soul by the combinations and successions of sounds. For more than an hour, he did not move from the piano, repeating many times the same chords, awkwardly picking out new ones, pausing and melting over the minor seve