ly, as though instructing. Foma
suddenly felt like crying out:

"It is not necessary!"

And he arose from the lounge--but at this moment the cabin door was
opened, the tall form of a woman appeared on the threshold, and,
noiselessly closing the door behind her, she said in a low voice:

"Oh dear! How dark it is! Is there a living soul somewhere around here?"

"Yes," answered Foma, softly.

"Well, then, good evening."

And the woman moved forward carefully.

"I'll light the lamp," said Foma in a broken voice, and, sinking on the
lounge, he curled himself up in the corner.

"It is good enough this way. When you get used to it you can see
everything in the dark as well."

"Be seated," said Foma.

"I will."

She sat down on the lounge about two steps away from him. Foma saw the
glitter of her eyes, he saw a smile on her full lips. It seemed to
him that this smile of hers was not at all like that other smile
before--this smile seemed plaintive, sad. This smile encouraged him;
he breathed with less difficulty at the sight of these eyes, which, on
meeting his own, suddenly glanced down on the floor. But he did not know
what to say to this woman and for about two minutes both were silent. It
was a heavy, awkward silence. She began to speak:

"You must be feeling lonesome here all alone?"

"Yes," answered Foma.

"And do you like our place here?" asked the woman in a low voice.

"It is nice. There are many woods here."

And again they became silent.

"The river, if you like, is more beautiful than the Volga," uttered
Foma, with an effort.

"I was on the Volga."

"Where?"

"In the city of Simbirsk."

"Simbirsk?" repeated Foma like an echo, feeling that he was again unable
to say a word.

But she evidently understood with whom she had to deal, and she suddenly
asked him in a bold whisper:

"Why don't you treat me to something?"

"Here!" Foma gave a start. "Indeed, how queer I am? Well, then, come up
to the table."

He bustled about in the dark, pushed the table, took up one bottle, then
another, and again returned them to their place, laughing guiltily and
confusedly as he did so. She came up close to him and stood by his side,
and, smiling, looked at his face and at his trembling hands.

"Are you bashful?" she suddenly whispered.

He felt her breath on his cheek and replied just as softly:

"Yes."

Then she placed her hands on his shoulders and quietly drew him to her
breast, saying in a so