She remembers this letter almost word for word. What does it mean? Yes, he has entirely deprived her of the possibility of clinging to him, so as to preserve her relations to him. What is left for her to do? And her former words, “I must go to him,” change into the words, “No, I must not see him,” and this him, does not refer to the one of whom she was just thinking. These words change all her former words, and she thinks one hour; she thinks two, “I must not see him”; and how and when did they succeed in changing? but they have already changed into the words: “Shall I really ever want to see him again? No!” and when she falls asleep these words have changed into other words, “Shall I really ever see him?” and where is the answer? Where is he gone? And these again change, yes, they grew into the words, “Shall I never see him again?” And when she falls asleep at daybreak she falls asleep with these same words, “Shall I really never see him again?”
And when she wakes late in the morning already, instead of all other words, only five words are wrestling with two, “I shall not see him; I shall see him”;87 and thus passes the whole morning. Everything is forgotten; everything is forgotten in this struggle, and the more powerful word no tries to conquer the little word yes; it tackles it; it clutches it. “I shall not see him”; and the little word glances aside and vanishes, glances aside and vanishes. “Yes, I shall see him.” Everything is forgotten; everything is forgotten in the effort of the stronger word no to conquer the smaller one yes. Yes, and it does conquer, and it calls to its aid other little words, so that the former little word may have no refuge. “No, I shall not see him; no, I shall not see him!” Yes, now the stronger words hold firmly in their grasp the little word yes, which has no refuge from them; they press it between them: “No, I shall not see—no, I shall see him—no, I shall not see him!” But what is she doing now? Her bonnet was already on her head; instinctively she looked at the mirror to see if her hair is in order; yes, in the mirror she saw that her bonnet is on straight, and from these words, which have grown together so firmly, one remained, and to this a new one was added, “No return! no return!”
“Masha, don’t expect me back to dinner! I shall not dine at home today.”
“Aleksandr Matvéitch has not returned yet from the hospital,” calmly replied Stepan; and how could he help speaking calmly with a phlegmatic lady? In her appearance there is nothing out of the ordinary; not very long ago she used to be here.
“I did not think he was; it’s all right; I will wait; you need not tell him that I am here.”
She unfolds some newspaper or other—yes, she can read; she sees that she can read; yes, as long as there is “no return”; as long as the decision is made, she feels herself quite calm. Of course she can read little; she scarcely read at all; she looked at the room; she began to put it in order, as though she were its khozyáïka. Of course she did not arrange it much, scarcely at all: but how calm she feels, and she can read, and she can occupy herself with something. She noticed that the ashes had not been emptied from the ashtray, and that the tablecloth needed adjustment, and that the chair was out of its place. She is sitting and thinking: “There is no return—no choice! A new life is beginning.” She thinks an hour, two hours: “A new life is beginning. How surprised he will be! how happy he will be! A new life is beginning! how happy we are!”
A tinkling bell! she flushed a little, and smiled; steps—the door opens!
“Viéra Pavlovna!”
“My love [drūg moï], I could not live without thee. How long thou didst love me, and said not a word. How noble thou art! How noble he is, Sasha!”
“Tell me, Viérotchka, how it happened.”
“I told him that I could not live without thee: on the very next evening he had already gone; I wanted to follow him; I talked all day yesterday about following him, but now thou seest that I have been here a long time.”
“But how thin thou hast grown these past two weeks, Viérotchka! How pale thy hands are!”
He kisses her hands.
“Yes, my dear, this has been a hard struggle. Now I can appreciate how much you suffered, so as not to disturb my peace. How could you be so self-possessed as to hide it from me? How thou must have suffered!”
“No, Viérotchka; it was not an easy task.”
He still kisses her hands, looking at them, and suddenly she burst into laughter.
“Akh! how inattentive I am to you. You are tired, Sasha; you must be hungry.”
She frees herself from him, and runs away.
“Where are you going, Viérotchka?”
But she
