Something rustled lightly at the door, it flew quickly open, and into the room ran Elena.
Insarov, all in a tremor, rushed to her, fell on his knees before her, clasped her waist and pressed it close against his head.
“You didn’t expect me?” she said, hardly able to draw her breath, she had run quickly up the stairs. “Dear one! dear one!—so this is where you live? I’ve quickly found you. The daughter of your landlord conducted me. We arrived the day before yesterday. I meant to write to you, but I thought I had better come myself. I have come for a quarter of an hour. Get up, shut the door.”
He got up, quickly shut the door, returned to her and took her by the hands. He could not speak; he was choking with delight. She looked with a smile into his eyes … there was such rapture in them … she felt shy.
“Stay,” she said, fondly taking her hand away from him, “let me take off my hat.”
She untied the strings of her hat, flung it down, slipped the cape off her shoulders, tidied her hair, and sat down on the little old sofa. Insarov gazed at her, without stirring, like one enchanted.
“Sit down,” she said, not lifting her eyes to him and motioning him to a place beside her.
Insarov sat down, not on the sofa, but on the floor at her feet.
“Come, take off my gloves,” she said in an uncertain voice. She felt afraid.
He began first to unbutton and then to draw off one glove; he drew it half off and greedily pressed his lips to the slender, soft wrist, which was white under it.
Elena shuddered, and would have pushed him back with the other hand; he began kissing the other hand too. Elena drew it away, he threw back his head, she looked into his face, bent above him, and their lips touched.
An instant passed … she broke away, got up, whispered “No, no,” and went quickly up to the writing-table.
“I am mistress here, you know, so you ought not to have any secrets from me,” she said, trying to seem at ease, and standing with her back to him. “What a lot of papers! what are these letters?”
Insarov knitted his brows. “Those letters?” he said, getting up, “you can read them.”
Elena turned them over in her hand. “There are so many of them, and the writing is so fine, and I have to go directly … let them be. They’re not from a rival, eh? … and they’re not in Russian,” she added, turning over the thin sheets.
Insarov came close to her and fondly touched her waist. She turned suddenly to him, smiled brightly at him and leant against his shoulder.
“Those letters are from Bulgaria, Elena; my friends write to me, they want me to come.”
“Now? To them?”
“Yes … now, while there is still time, while it is still possible to come.”
All at once she flung both arms round his neck, “You will take me with you, yes?”
He pressed her to his heart. “O my sweet girl, O my heroine, how you said that! But isn’t it wicked, isn’t it mad for me, a homeless, solitary man, to drag you with me … and out there too!”
She shut his mouth. … “Sh—or I shall be angry, and never come to see you again. Why isn’t it all decided, all settled between us? Am I not your wife? Can a wife be parted from her husband?”
“Wives don’t go into war,” he said with a half-mournful smile.
“Oh yes, when they can’t stay behind, and I cannot stay here?”
“Elena, my angel! … but think, I have, perhaps, to leave Moscow in a fortnight. I can’t think of university lectures, or finishing my work.”
“What!” interrupted Elena, “you have to go soon? If you like, I will stop at once this minute with you forever, and not go home, shall I? Shall we go at once?”
Insarov clasped her in his arms with redoubled warmth. “May God so reward me then,” he cried, “if I am doing wrong! From today, we are one forever!”
“Am I to stay?” asked Elena.
“No, my pure girl; no, my treasure. You shall go back home today, only keep yourself in readiness. This is a matter we can’t manage straight off; we must plan it out well. We want money, a passport—”
“I have money,” put in Elena. “Eighty roubles.”
“Well, that’s not much,” observed Insarov; “but everything’s a help.”
“But I can get more. I will borrow. I will ask mamma. … No, I won’t ask mamma for any. … But I can sell my watch. … I have earrings, too, and two bracelets … and lace.”
“Money’s not the chief difficulty, Elena; the passport; your passport, how about that?”
“Yes, how about it? Is a passport absolutely necessary?”
“Absolutely.”
Elena laughed. “What a queer idea! I remember when I was little … a maid of ours ran away. She was caught, and forgiven, and lived with us a long while … but still everyone used to call her Tatyana, the runaway. I never thought then that I too might perhaps be a runaway like her.”
“Elena, aren’t you ashamed?”
“Why? Of course it’s better to go with a passport. But if we can’t—”
“We will settle all that later, later, wait a little,” said Insarov. “Let me look about; let me
