ssession and lain down in it in
silence, but, in all its magnitude, like the owner in a new house.
Litvinov was no longer ashamed, he was afraid; he had been vanquished,
vanquished suddenly... and what had become of his honesty? The first
look at Tatyana, the first look of Tatyana... that was what filled him
with terror, that was what he had to live through directly... and
afterwards?... afterwards?... Come what may come!

The train steamed in. Tatyana, standing near her aunt, smiled brightly
and held out her hand. He helped them to a fly and took a place in it
opposite them. He brought himself at last to look at Tatyana. His heart
throbbed with involuntary emotion; the serene expression of that honest,
candid face gave him a pang of bitter reproach. "So you are here, poor
girl," he thought. "You whom I have so longed for, so urged to come,
with whom I had hoped to spend my life to the end, you have come, you
believe in me... while I... while I..."

But Kapitolina Markoyna gave him no time for musing. She was full of
chatter, full of interest in everything that was going on, afire to see
all the fine aristocrats, though she abused them soundly.

After doing a round of the sights, Litvinov, his mind always on the
rack, led the ladies back to their hotel. As they entered a note was
handed to him. He tore open the envelope and read the words within,
scribbled in pencil: "Come to me this evening at seven, for one minute,
I entreat you. Irina."

After dinner Litvinov escorted the two ladies to their room, and, after
standing a little while at the window, with a scowl on his face, he
suddenly announced that he had to go out for a short time on business.
Tatyana said nothing; she turned pale and dropped her eyes. She was well
aware that Litvinov knew that her aunt took a nap after dinner; she had
expected him to take advantage of it to remain with her. He had not been
alone with her nor spoken frankly to her since her arrival. And now he
was going out! What was she to make of it? And, indeed, his whole
behaviour all along....

In a few minutes he was with Irina, holding her in his arms.

"I can't live without you, Irina," he whispered; "I am yours for ever
and always. I can only breathe at your feet."

He stooped down, all in a tremble, to kiss her hand. Irina gazed at his
bent head.

"Then let me say that I, too, am ready for anything; that I, too, will
consider no one and nothing. As you decide, so it shall be. I, t