the habit of the past, as she had forgotten for
the last eight days what it meant to breathe fresh air."

"Alone, or with Darya Pavlovna?" Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch interrupted the
old man with a rapid question, and he scowled when he heard that Darya
Pavlovna "had declined to go abroad on account of indisposition and was
in her rooms."

"Listen, old man," he said, as though suddenly making up his mind. "Keep
watch over her all to-day, and if you notice her coming to me, stop her
at once, and tell her that I can't see her for a few days at least...
that I ask her not to come myself.... I'll let her know myself, when the
time comes. Do you hear?"

"I'll tell her, sir," said Alexey Yegorytch, with distress in his voice,
dropping his eyes.

"Not till you see clearly she's meaning to come and see me of herself,
though."

"Don't be afraid, sir, there shall be no mistake. Your interviews have
all passed through me, hitherto. You've always turned to me for help."

"I know. Not till she comes of herself, anyway. Bring me some tea, if
you can, at once."

The old man had hardly gone out, when almost at the same instant the
door reopened, and Darya Pavlovna appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were
tranquil, though her face was pale.

"Where have you come from?" exclaimed Stavrogin.

"I was standing there, and waiting for him to go out, to come in to
you. I heard the order you gave him, and when he came out just now I hid
round the corner, on the right, and he didn't notice me."

"I've long meant to break off with you, Dasha... for a while... for the
present. I couldn't see you last night, in spite of your note. I meant
to write to you myself, but I don't know how to write," he added with
vexation, almost as though with disgust.

"I thought myself that we must break it off. Varvara Petrovna is too
suspicious of our relations."

"Well, let her be."

"She mustn't be worried. So now we part till the end comes."

"You still insist on expecting the end?"

"Yes, I'm sure of it."

"But nothing in the world ever has an end."

"This will have an end. Then call me. I'll come. Now, good-bye."

"And what sort of end will it be?" smiled Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch.

"You're not wounded, and... have not shed blood?" she asked, not
answering his question.

"It was stupid. I didn't kill anyone. Don't be uneasy. However, you'll
hear all about it to-day from every one. I'm not quite well."

"I'm going. The announcement of the marr