"It is not possible! . . . . . . I did not read it right. . . . . . . The letter does not say that!" she cried, letting her arms fall by her sides.
Again she began to read. This time her eyes fixed themselves on the fatal paper, and those beautiful clear eyes became dimmer and dimmer. She let the letter fall upon her work-table, and, hiding her head in her hands, she burst into sobs.
"What have I done? What have I done?" she cried, despairingly. "What have I done?"
"Vérotchka!"[1] suddenly exclaimed a young man, hurrying into the room; "Vérotchka! What has happened to you? And why these tears?"
"Read!" . . . She handed him the letter. Véra Pavlovna sobbed no longer, but remained motionless as if nailed to her seat, and scarcely breathing.
The young man took the letter; he grew pale, his hands trembled, and his eyes remained fixed for a long time upon the text, though it was brief. This letter was thus framed:
"I disturbed your tranquillity: I quit the scene. Do not pity me. I love you both so much that I am quite content in my resolution. Adieu."
Absorbed for a moment in his sadness, the young man then approached the young woman, who still was motionless and in a seeming lethargy, and, taking her hand:
"Vérotchka!" . . .
But the young woman uttered a cry of terror, and, rising, as if moved by an electric force, she convulsively repulsed the young man, separating herself from him.
"Back! Do not touch me! You are covered with blood! Leave me!"
She continued to recoil, making gestures of terror and waving her arms in space as if to repel an object of fear. Suddenly she staggered and sank into an arm-chair, her head in her hands.
"It is also on me, his blood! on me especially! You are not guilty . . . . it is I, I alone! What have I done? What have I done?"
And her sobs redoubled.
"Vérotchka," said the young man, timidly; "Vérotchka, my beloved!"
"No, leave me," she answered, with a trembling voice, as soon as she could get breath. "Do not speak to me! In a moment you will find me calmer; leave me."
He went into his study, and sat down again at the writing-table where a quarter of an hour before he had been so calm and happy. He took up his pen, and, after the article which he had begun, he permitted himself to write: "It is in such moments that one must retain self-possession. I have will, and it will all pass over, it will all pass over. But will she bear it? Oh! it is horrible! Happiness is lost!"
- ↑ Vérotchka is the diminutive of Véra.
