disengaged his hand. He not only felt no attraction, but at her touch a cold and unpleasant shiver ran through his frame. She redoubled her caresses. He did not respond to them, and grew even more cold and sullen. She suddenly snatched her hand away from him and grew crimson. Womanly pride, outraged self-love, shame were stirred in
her. She raised her head, drew herself up, and blushed from vexation.
' Leave me!' she said in broken tones.
He went off at once without any kind of reply. But as the sound of his steps began to die away she rushed after him !
'Alexandr Fedoritch! Alexandr Fedoritch!' she cried.
He came back.
' Where are you going ? '
' Why, you just told me to go.'
' And you were glad to escape. Stop!'
' I've no time ! '
She took him by the hand, and again melted into tender, tearful words and prayers. He showed no sympathy in look, or word, or gesture, but stood as though he were made of wood, shifting from one leg to the other. His coldness drove her to frenzy. Threats and reproaches were showered on him. Who would have recognised in her the gentle, nervous woman? Her hair fell down in disorder, her eyes glowed with feverish brilliance, her cheeks were flushed, her features were strangely distorted—' How ugly s he is ! ' thought Alexandr, looking at her with a grimace.
' 1 will be revenged on you !' sne said. a Do you think [ you can so easily trifle with a woman's destiny ? and you shall see what I will do! you will be sick of your life!
How consoling now to hear of your ruin I could kill
you myself!' she shrieked wildly, furiously.
' How stupid it is, how absurd!' thought Alexandr, shrugging his shoulders.
Seeing that Alexandr remained unmoved by her threats, she suddenly changed to a gentle, pathetic tone, then gazed silently at him.
' Have pity on me !' she began to say ; 'don't cast me aside; what can I do now without you ? I could not bear separation. I should die! Think a little: women love very differently from men; more tenderly, more passionately. For them love is everything; and especially is it so for me; other women like flirtation, society, bustle and activity; I was never suited for that—mine is a different character. I love quiet, solitude, books, music, and you more than everything in the world.'
u-'
Alexandr showed his impatience.
' Very well! you do not love me,' she went on more quickly, 'but fulfil your promise; marry me, only be mine* you shall be free: do what you like, even love whom you like, if only I may sometimes—now and then—see you. Oh, for God's sake, pity me, pity me !'
She burst into tears and could not go on. Her emotion had exhausted her; she fell on to the sofa, her eyes closed and her teeth clenched, while her mouth worked convulsively. She fell into hysterics. An hour later she recovered and came to herself. Her maid was bustling about near her. She looked round. 'But where?' .... she asked.
' He has gone away ! '
' Gone away!' she repeated dejectedly, and sat a long while silent and motionless.
The next day note after note was despatched to Alexandr. He did not make his appearance nor send any answer. The third and the fourth day it was the same. Julia wrote to Piotr Ivanitch, and asked him to come to her about important business; his wife she did not like, because she was young and handsome, and happened to be Alexandras aunt.
Piotr Ivanitch found her seriously ill, almost at death's door. He set off to see Alexandr.
' What a hypocrite ! fie !' he said.
' How so! ' said Alexandr.
' Just look at him, as though it were no concern of his ! He does not know how to make a woman love him indeed ! why, he's driven her wild about him !'
' I don't understand, uncle '
' What is there you don't understand ? you understand well enough! I have been at Madame Taphaev's; she has told me all.'
'What!' stammered Alexandr in violent confusion. ' She has told you all! '*
'Yes, all. How she loves you ! You lucky fellow ! Well, you were always lamenting that you could not find passion; here you have passion; b6 comforted ! '
' What did you go to see her about ? '
' She asked me, and complained to me of you. Certainly I wonder you're not ashamed to neglect her like this ? for four days you have not set eyes on her .... it's no
joking matter. She is pale, dying ! Come, go directly to her.'
' What did you say to her ? '
' Oh, the ordinary things, that you, too, love her to distraction, that you have long been seeking a sympathetic heart; that you are passionately fond of sincere outpourings ; and that you, too, cannot live without love. I said that she was uneasy without cause; that you would come back. I advised her not to coop you up too much, to let you amuse yourself a little sometimes, else, I told her, you will begin to bore each other—in fact, what is usually said on such occasions. I cheered her up so that she proceeded to tell me you had decided to be married, that my wife had already helped in the matter. But never a word to me—these women ! Well, thank God she has something of her own ; you can spend it between you. I told her that you would
certainly carry out your engagement I did my best for
you just now, Alexandr, in gratitude for the service you did me. I convinced her that you love so passionately, so tenderly. ,,
' What have you done, uncle!' said Alexandr, changing countenance. ' I—I don't love her any more ! I don't want to marry her ! I feel cold to her, as cold as ice ! I'd sooner drown myself than '
' Pooh, pooh !' said Piotr Ivanitch, with simulated incredulity ; ' is it you I am listening to ? Didn't you say—do you remember ?—that you despise human nature, especially feminine human nature; that there was no heart in the world deserving of you? What more did you say? Let me remember '
' For Heaven's sake, not a word more, uncle; that is reproach enough; what need to moralise farther ? Do you think I don't understand. O man, man !'
He suddenly began to laugh, and his uncle joined in.
' Weil, that's better !' said Piotr Ivanitch; ' I said you would come to laugh at yourself, and here '
And both laughed again.
' But I say,' Piotr Ivanitch went on, ' what is your opinion now of that—what's-her-name—Pashenka, was it ?—with the wart ? '
' Uncle that's not magnanimous.'
N
' No; I only speak of it to discover whether you still despise her just the same ? '
' Stop that, for Heaven's sake, and help me instead to get out of an awful position. You are so sensible, so judicious '
' Oh, now for compliments and flattery ! No, you get along and marry her.'
' Not for anything, uncle! I entreat you, aid me.'
' Come, don't worry; I have helped you already,' said his uncle. 'Don't be uneasy; Madame Taphaev will not trouble you further.'
' What have you done ? What have you told her ? '
'It's too long to repeat, Alexandr; it would be tedious.'
' But most likely you have been saying all sorts of things to her. She will hate and despise me.'
' What does it matter to you ? I quieted her—that was enough ; I told her that you weren't capable of love; that it wasn't worth while troubling about you.'
