The poor girl’s emotion was so violent that she could not say more; she laid her head upon my shoulder, then upon my bosom, and wept bitterly. I comforted her, I persuaded her, but she could not stop crying; she kept pressing my hand, and saying between her sobs: «Wait, wait, it will be over in a minute! I want to tell you … you mustn’t think that these tears—it’s nothing, it’s weakness, wait till it’s over.»… At last she left off crying, dried her eyes and we walked on again. I wanted to speak, but she still begged me to wait. We were silent…. At last she plucked up courage and began to speak.
«It’s like this,» she began in a weak and quivering voice, in which, however, there was a note that pierced my heart with a sweet pang; «don’t think that I am so light and inconstant, don’t think that I can forget and change so quickly. I have loved him for a whole year, and I swear by God that I have never, never, even in thought, been unfaithful to him…. He has despised me, he has been laughing at me—God forgive him! But he has insulted me and wounded my heart. I … I do not love him, for I can only love what is magnanimous, what understands me, what is generous; for I am like that myself and he is not worthy of me—well, that’s enough of him. He has done better than if he had deceived my expectations later, and shown me later what he was…. Well, it’s over! But who knows, my dear friend,» she went on pressing my hand, «who knows, perhaps my whole love was a mistaken feeling, a delusion—perhaps it began in mischief, in nonsense, because I was kept so strictly by grandmother? Perhaps I ought to love another man, not him, a different man, who would have pity on me and … and…. But don’t let us say any more about that,» Nastenka broke off, breathless with emotion, «I only wanted to tell you … I wanted to tell you that if, although I love him (no, did love him), if, in spite of this you still say…. If you feel that your love is so great that it may at last drive from my heart my old feeling—if you will have pity on me—if you do not want to leave me alone to my fate, without hope, without consolation—if you are ready to love me always as you do now—I swear to you that gratitude … that my love will be at last worthy of your love…. Will you take my hand?»
«Nastenka!» I cried breathless with sobs. «Nastenka, oh Nastenka!»
«Enough, enough! Well, now it’s quite enough,» she said, hardly able to control herself. «Well, now all has been said, hasn’t it! Hasn’t it? You are happy—I am happy too. Not another word about it, wait; spare me … talk of something else, for God’s sake.»
«Yes, Nastenka, yes! Enough about that, now I am happy. I—— Yes, Nastenka, yes, let us talk of other things, let us make haste and talk. Yes! I am ready.»
And we did not know what to say: we laughed, we wept, we said thousands of things meaningless and incoherent; at one moment we walked along the pavement, then suddenly turned back and crossed the road; then we stopped and went back again to the embankment; we were like children.
«I am living alone now, Nastenka,» I began, «but to-morrow! Of course you know, Nastenka, I am poor, I have only got twelve hundred roubles, but that doesn’t matter.»
«Of course not, and granny has her pension, so she will be no burden. We must take granny.»
«Of course we must take granny. But there’s Matrona.»
«Yes, and we’ve got Fyokla too!»
«Matrona is a good woman, but she has one fault: she has no imagination, Nastenka, absolutely none; but that doesn’t matter.»
«That’s all right—they can live together; only you must move to us to-morrow.»
«To you? How so? All right, I am ready.»
«Yes, hire a room from us. We have a top floor, it’s empty. We had an old lady lodging there, but she has gone away; and I know granny would like to have a young man. I said to her, ‘Why a young man?’ And she said, ‘Oh, because I am old; only don’t you fancy, Nastenka, that I want him as a husband for you.’ So I guessed it was with that idea.»
«Oh, Nastenka!»
And we both laughed.
«Come, that’s enough, that’s enough. But where do you live? I’ve forgotten.»
«Over that way, near X bridge, Barannikov’s Buildings.»
«It’s that big house?»
«Yes, that big house.»
«Oh, I know, a nice house; only you know you had better give it up and come to us as soon as possible.»
«To-morrow, Nastenka, to-morrow; I owe a little for my rent there but that doesn’t matter. I shall soon get my salary.»
«And do you know I will perhaps give lessons; I will learn something myself and then give lessons.»
«Capital! And I shall soon get a bonus.»
«So by to-morrow you will be my lodger.»
«And we will go to The Barber of Seville, for they are soon going to give it again.»
«Yes, we’ll go,» said Nastenka, «but better see something else and not The Barber of Seville.»
«Very well, something else. Of course that will be better, I did not think——»
As we talked like this we walked along in a sort of delirium, a sort of intoxication, as though we did not know what was happening to us. At one moment we stopped and talked for a long time at the same place; then we went on again, and goodness knows where we went; and again tears and again laughter. All of a sudden Nastenka would want to go home, and I would not dare to detain her but would want to see her to the house; we set off, and in a quarter of an hour found ourselves at the embankment by our seat. Then she would sigh, and tears would come into her eyes again; I would turn chill with dismay…. But she would press my hand and force me to walk, to talk, to chatter as before.
«It’s time I was home at last; I think it must be very late,» Nastenka said at last. «We must give over being childish.»
«Yes, Nastenka, only I shan’t sleep to-night; I am not going home.»
«I don’t think I shall sleep either; only see me home.»
«I should think so!»
«Only this time we really must get to the house.»
«We must, we must.»
«Honour bright? For you know one must go home some time!»
«Honour bright,» I answered laughing.
«Well, come along!»
«Come along! Look at the sky, Nastenka. Look! To-morrow it will be a lovely day; what a blue sky, what a moon! Look; that yellow cloud is covering it now, look, look! No, it has passed by. Look, look!»
But Nastenka did not look at the cloud; she stood mute as though turned to stone; a minute later she huddled timidly close up to me. Her hand trembled in my hand; I looked at her. She pressed still more closely to me.
At that moment a young man passed by us. He suddenly stopped, looked at us intently, and then again took a few steps on. My heart began throbbing.
«Who is it, Nastenka?» I said in an undertone.
«It’s he,» she answered in a whisper, huddling up to me, still more closely, still more tremulously…. I could hardly stand on my feet.
«Nastenka, Nastenka! It’s you!» I heard a voice behind us and at the same moment the young man took several steps towards us.
My God, how she cried out! How she started! How she tore herself out of my arms and rushed to meet him! I stood and looked at them, utterly crushed. But she had hardly given him her hand, had hardly flung herself into his arms, when she turned to me again, was beside me again in a flash, and before I knew where I was she threw both arms round my neck and gave me a warm, tender kiss. Then, without saying a word to me, she rushed back to him again, took his hand, and drew him after her.
I stood a long time looking after them. At last the two vanished from my sight.
MORNING
My night ended with the morning. It was a wet day. The rain was falling and beating disconsolately upon my window pane; it was dark in the room and grey outside. My head ached and I was giddy; fever was stealing over my limbs.
«There’s a letter for you, sir; the postman brought it,» Matrona said stooping over me.
«A letter? From whom?» I cried jumping up from my chair.
«I don’t know, sir, better look—maybe it is written there whom it is from.»
I broke the seal. It was from her!
«Oh, forgive me, forgive me! I beg you on my knees to forgive me! I deceived you and myself. It was a dream, a mirage…. My heart aches for you to-day; forgive me, forgive me!
«Don’t blame me, for I have not changed to you in the least. I told you that I would love you, I love you now, I more than love you. Oh, my God! If only I could love you both at once! Oh, if only you were he!»
[«Oh, if only he were you,» echoed in my mind. I remembered your words, Nastenka!]
«God knows what I would do for you now! I know that you are sad and dreary. I have wounded you, but you know when one
