eyes. Then he took two steps, and slowly sat down on a chair facing Marianna.
'Alexey,' she said to him,'everything is discovered; Markelov has been seized by the peasants he was trying to incite; he's under arrest in the town, and so is that merchant you dined with; most likely the police will soon be here after us. Paklin has gone to Sipyagin.'
'What for?' muttered Nezhdanov, hardly audibly. But his eyes grew clearer, his face regained its ordinary expression. The stupor had left him instantly.
'To try whether he will intercede.'
Nezhdanov drew himself up.. . . 'For us?'
'No; for Markelov. He wanted to beg for us too . . . but I would not let him. Did I do right, Alexey?'
'Right?' said Nezhdanov, and without getting up from his chair, he held out his hands to her. 'Right?' he repeated, and, drawing her close to him and hiding his face against her, he suddenly burst into tears.
'What is it, dear? what is it?' cried Marianna. Now, too, as on that day when he had fallen on his knees before her, faint and breathless with a sudden torrent of passion, she laid her two hands on his trembling head.
But what she felt now was not at all what
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