Nezhdanov walked once or twice up and down his room, then he went along the corridor to Marianna's door and softly knocked. There was no answer. He knocked once more, tried the door. . . . It appeared to be locked. But he had hardly got back to his own room, and sat down to the table, when his own door gave a faint creak and he heard Marianna's voice:
'Alexey Dmitritch, was that you came to me?'
He jumped up at once and ran into the corridor; Marianna was standing at his door, a candle in her hand, pale and motionless.
'Yes . . . I . . .' he whispered.
'Come along,' she answered, and walked along the corridor, but before she got to the end she stopped and pushed open a low door with her hand. Nezhdanov saw a small, almost empty room. 'We had better go in here, Alexey Dmitritch, here no one will disturb us.' Nezhdanov obeyed. Marianna set the candle down on the window-sill and turned round to Nezhdanov.
'I understand why it was that you wanted to see me,' she began; 'it is very wretched for you living in this house, and so it is for me too.'
'Yes; I wanted to see you, Marianna Vikentyevna', answered Nezhdanov, 'but it isn't
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