What Is to Be Done?

shocked was she by the abrupt turn in the affair. Twenty-four hours have not passed⁠—no, in two hours it will be a full day⁠—since he found her letter in his room, and now he is already gone. How quick! how sudden! At two o’clock she had not anticipated anything of the sort. He waited until she, wearied by the excitement of the morning, could not longer resist the power of sleep, came in, said a few words, and in these few words there was an almost incomprehensible preface to what he meant; and in what brief words he said what he meant! He said: “I have not seen my old folks for a long time. I am going to see them, and they will be glad to have me come.” That was all, and he left immediately; and she hastened after him, though, when he came in, he asked her to promise not to do it. She hastened after him; but where was he? “Masha, where is he? where is he?”

Masha, who was still putting away the things after the departure of the guests, says, “Dmitri Sergéitch has gone out. He said, after he came out from your room, ‘I am going to take a walk.’ ” And she had to go to bed; and how could she go to sleep? But she did not know that this was going to take place on the very morning which was now beginning to dawn. He said that they would have abundant time to talk everything over. And she had barely time to open her eyes before it was time to go to the railway station. Yes, all this had flashed by her eyes, as though nothing of the sort had happened to her, as though someone had told her of something that happened to someone else. Only now, while returning home from the railway station, she came to herself, and began to think, “What is the matter with me, and what is going to happen to me?”

Yes, she is going to Riazan. She is going; it is impossible not to go. But this letter; what will be in that letter? No; why wait for the letter before deciding? She knows what it will contain: still she must postpone her decision till the letter comes. Why postpone it? She will go; yes, she will go! She thinks about it one hour; she thinks two; she thinks three, four hours. But Masha was getting hungry, and for the third time has summoned her to dinner; and this time she commands her, rather than summons her. Well, this is another recollection. “Poor Masha! how I compelled her to get hungry!”

“Why did you wait for me, Masha! Why did not you have your dinner long ago, without waiting for me?”

“How could I, Viéra Pavlovna?”

And she thinks again for one hour, two hours. “I am going; yes, I am going tomorrow. I shall only wait for the letter because he asked me to. But whatever may be written in it⁠—and I know what will be in it⁠—it does not make any difference what it says, I shall go.”

On this she thinks an hour, two hours. Yes, she deliberates over it an hour; but does she deliberate over it two hours? No, though she thinks about it; but she thinks five little words more, “He does not wish it.” And more and more she deliberates over these five little words. And here the sun is already setting; but she still thinks the same thoughts, and, above all, the five little words; and suddenly, just at the very instant that the indefatigable Masha was demanding that Viéra Pavlovna should come out to tea, at that very moment, out from those five little words arise six little words, “I do not wish it either.” How well the indefatigable Masha acted in coming in! She drove away these six new little words. But even the beneficent Masha did not long succeed in driving away these six little words. At first they did not dare to appear by themselves; they sent in their place a refutation of themselves, “But I must go.” And they sent them for the sake of returning themselves, under the cover of this refutation. At one instant appeared with them their carrier, “He does not wish it”; and at that very instant these five little words changed into the six little words, “I do not wish it either.”

And she goes over these thoughts for half an hour; and in half an hour these five little words, the six little words, begin to work over, according to their own will, even the former words, the most important words of all. And from the three words, most important of all, “I shall go,” grow four words, not the same as before, though they are the same, “But shall I go?” Thus it is that words grow, and transform themselves. But here comes Masha again. “I gave him a silver ruble, Viéra Pavlovna; here it is written, ‘If he brings it at nine o’clock, give him a silver ruble; but if later, give him half a ruble.’ The conductor brought it, Viéra Pavlovna. He came down on the evening train. He said, ‘I did as I promised; to make it quicker, I took an izvoshchik.’ ”

The letter is from him! Yes, she knows what is in the letter; “Don’t go.” But still she means to go. She does not want to listen to this letter⁠—to him; she intends to go; she is going. No, there is something different in the letter; here is something to which it is impossible not to listen: “I am going to Riazan, but not directly to Riazan. I have a great deal to do for the factory on the way. Besides Moscow, where I shall have to stay a week, I shall have to stop at two towns this side of Moscow, and three on the other side before I reach Riazan. How long I