o had
a firm will which I was never able to vanquish... We parted as
enemies--and then, perhaps, if I had met her five years later we would
have parted otherwise...

Vera is ill, very ill, although she does not admit it. I fear she has
consumption, or that disease which is called "fievre lente"--a quite
unRussian disease, and one for which there is no name in our language.

The storm overtook us while in the grotto and detained us half an hour
longer. Vera did not make me swear fidelity, or ask whether I had loved
others since we had parted... She trusted in me anew with all her former
unconcern, and I will not deceive her: she is the only woman in the
world whom it would never be within my power to deceive. I know that we
shall soon have to part again, and perchance for ever. We will both go
by different ways to the grave, but her memory will remain inviolable
within my soul. I have always repeated this to her, and she believes me,
although she says she does not.

At length we separated. For a long time I followed her with my eyes,
until her hat was hidden behind the shrubs and rocks. My heart was
painfully contracted, just as after our first parting. Oh, how I
rejoiced in that emotion! Can it be that youth is about to come back to
me, with its salutary tempests, or is this only the farewell glance, the
last gift--in memory of itself?... And to think that, in appearance,
I am still a boy! My face, though pale, is still fresh; my limbs are
supple and slender; my hair is thick and curly, my eyes sparkle, my
blood boils...

Returning home, I mounted on horseback and galloped to the steppe. I
love to gallop on a fiery horse through the tall grass, in the face of
the desert wind; greedily I gulp down the fragrant air and fix my gaze
upon the blue distance, endeavouring to seize the misty outlines of
objects which every minute grow clearer and clearer. Whatever griefs
oppress my heart, whatever disquietudes torture my thoughts--all are
dispersed in a moment; my soul becomes at ease; the fatigue of the body
vanquishes the disturbance of the mind. There is not a woman's glance
which I would not forget at the sight of the tufted mountains, illumined
by the southern sun; at the sight of the dark-blue sky, or in hearkening
to the roar of the torrent as it falls from cliff to cliff.

I believe that the Cossacks, yawning on their watch-towers, when they
saw me galloping thus needlessly and aimlessly, were long tormented
by th