I ran in to Pasinkov. He was lying motionless. In the light of the coming day he looked already a corpse. He recognised me.
'Good-bye,' he whispered; 'greet her for me, I'm dying….'
'Yasha!' I cried; 'nonsense! you are going to live….'
'No, no! I am dying…. Here, take this as a keepsake.' … (He pointed to his breast.) …
'What's this?' he began suddenly; 'look: the sea … all golden, and blue isles upon it, marble temples, palm- trees, incense….'
He ceased speaking … stretched….
Within half an hour he was no more. Elisei flung himself weeping at his feet. I closed his eyes.
On his neck there was a little silken amulet on a black cord. I took it.
Three days afterwards he was buried…. One of the noblest hearts was hidden for ever in the grave. I myself threw the first handful of earth upon him.
III
Another year and a half passed by. Business obliged me to visit Moscow. I took up my quarters in one of the good hotels there. One day, as I was passing along the corridor, I glanced at the black-board with the list of visitors staying in the hotel, and almost cried out aloud with astonishment. Opposite the number 12 stood, distinctly written in chalk, the name, Sophia Nikolaevna Asanova. Of late I had chanced to hear a good deal that was bad about her husband. I had learned that he was addicted to drink and to gambling, had ruined himself, and was generally misconducting himself. His wife was spoken of with respect…. In some excitement I went back to my room. The passion, that had long long ago grown cold, began as it were to stir within my heart, and it throbbed. I resolved to go and see Sophia Nikolaevna. 'Such a long time has passed since the day we parted,' I thought, 'she has, most likely, forgotten everything there was between us in those days.'
I sent Elisei, whom I had taken into my service after the death of Pasinkov, with my visiting-card to her door, and told him to inquire whether she was at home, and whether I might see her. Elisei quickly came back and announced that Sophia Nikolaevna was at home and would see me.
I went at once to Sophia Nikolaevna. When I went in, she was standing in the middle of the room, taking leave of a tall stout gentleman.
'As you like,' he was saying in a rich, mellow voice; 'he is not a harmless person, he's a useless person; and every useless person in a well-ordered society is harmful, harmful, harmful!'
With those words the tall gentleman went out. Sophia Nikolaevna turned to me.
'How long it is since we met!' she said. 'Sit down, please….'
We sat down. I looked at her…. To see again after long absence the features of a face once dear, perhaps beloved, to recognise them, and not recognise them, as though across the old, unforgotten countenance a new one, like, but strange, were looking out at one; instantaneously, almost unconsciously, to note the traces time has laid upon it;—all this is rather melancholy. 'I too must have changed in the same way,' each is inwardly thinking….
Sophia Nikolaevna did not, however, look much older; though, when I had seen her last, she was sixteen, and that was nine years ago.
Her features had become still more correct and severe; as of old, they expressed sincerity of feeling and firmness; but in place of her former serenity, a sort of secret ache and anxiety could be discerned in them. Her eyes had grown deeper and darker. She had begun to show a likeness to her mother….
Sophia Nikolaevna was the first to begin the conversation.
'We are both changed,' she began. 'Where have you been all this time?'
'I've been a rolling stone,' I answered. 'And have you been living in the country all the while?'
'For the most part I've been in the country. I'm only here now for a little time.'
'How are your parents?'
'My mother is dead, but my father is still in Petersburg; my brother's in the service; Varia lives with him.'
'And your husband?'
'My husband,' she said in a rather hurried voice—'he's just now in South Russia for the horse fairs. He was always very fond of horses, you know, and he has started stud stables … and so, on that account … he's buying horses now.'
At that instant there walked into the room a little girl of eight years old, with her hair in a pigtail, with a very keen and lively little face, and large dark grey eyes. On seeing me, she at once drew back her little foot, dropped a hasty curtsey, and went up to Sophia Nikolaevna.
'This is my little daughter; let me introduce her to you,' said Sophia
Nikolaevna, putting one finger under the little girl's round chin; 'she would not stop at home—she persuaded me to bring her with me.'
The little girl scanned me with her rapid glance and faintly dropped her eyelids.
'She is a capital little person,' Sophia Nikolaevna went on: 'there's nothing she's afraid of. And she's good at her lessons; I must say that for her.'
'Comment se nomme monsieur?' the little girl asked in an undertone, bending over to her mother.
Sophia Nikolaevna mentioned my name.
The little girl glanced at me again.
'What is your name?' I asked her.
'My name is Lidia,' answered the little girl, looking me boldly in the face.
'I expect they spoil you,' I observed.
'Who spoil me?'
'Who? everyone, I expect; your parents to begin with.'
(The little girl looked, without a word, at her mother.) 'I can fancy
Konstantin Alexandritch,' I was going on …
'Yes, yes,' Sophia Nikolaevna interposed, while her little daughter kept her attentive eyes fastened upon her; 'my husband, of course—he is very fond of children….'
A strange expression flitted across Lidia's clever little face. There was a slight pout about her lips; she hung her head.
'Tell me,' Sophia Nikolaevna added hurriedly; 'you are here on business, I expect?'
'Yes, I am here on business…. And are you too?'
'Yes…. In my husband's absence, you understand, I'm obliged to look after business matters.'
'Maman!' Lidia was beginning.
'Quoi, mon enfant?'
'Non—rien…. Je te dirai apres.'
Sophia Nikolaevna smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
'Tell me, please,' Sophia Nikolaevna began again; 'do you remember, you had a friend … what was his name? he had such a good-natured face … he was always reading poetry; such an enthusiastic—'
'Not Pasinkov?'
'Yes, yes, Pasinkov … where is he now?'
'He is dead.'
'Dead?' repeated Sophia Nikolaevna; 'what a pity!…'
'Have I seen him?' the little girl asked in a hurried whisper.
'No, Lidia, you've never seen him.—What a pity!' repeated Sophia
Nikolaevna.
'You regret him …' I began; 'what if you had known him, as I knew him?… But, why did you speak of him, may I ask?'
'Oh, I don't know….' (Sophia Nikolaevna dropped her eyes.) 'Lidia,' she added; 'run away to your nurse.'
'You'll call me when I may come back?' asked the little girl.
