RUDIN
Rudin’s face showed his agitation. He grew pale.
‘You understand everything, you must understand me too!’ said Natalya; she snatched away her hand and went on, not looking round.
‘Only one word!’ cried Rudin after her.
She stood still, but did not turn round.
‘You asked me what I meant by that comparison yesterday. Let me tell you, I don’t want to deceive you. I spoke of myself, of my past,—and of you.’
‘How? of me?’
‘Yes, of you; I repeat, I will not deceive you. You know now what was the feeling, the new feeling I spoke of then. . . . Till to-day I should not have ventured . . .’
Natalya suddenly hid her face in her hands, and ran towards the house.
She was so distracted by the unexpected conclusion of her conversation with Rudin, that she ran past Volintsev without even noticing him. He was standing motionless with his back against a tree. He had arrived at the house a quarter of an hour before, and found Darya Mihailovna in the drawing-room; and
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