The sun had already set by the time I had ridden up to
Kislovodsk--myself and my horse both utterly spent!

My servant told me that Werner had called, and he handed me two notes:
one from Werner, the other... from Vera.

I opened the first; its contents were as follows:

"Everything has been arranged as well as could be; the mutilated body
has been brought in; and the bullet extracted from the breast. Everybody
is convinced that the cause of death was an unfortunate accident; only
the Commandant, who was doubtless aware of your quarrel, shook his head,
but he said nothing. There are no proofs at all against you, and you may
sleep in peace... if you can.... Farewell!"...

For a long time I could not make up my mind to open the second note...
What could it be that she was writing to me?... My soul was agitated by
a painful foreboding.

Here it is, that letter, each word of which is indelibly engraved upon
my memory:

"I am writing to you in the full assurance that we shall never see each
other again. A few years ago on parting with you I thought the same.
However, it has been Heaven's will to try me a second time: I have not
been able to endure the trial, my frail heart has again submitted to
the well-known voice... You will not despise me for that--will you? This
letter will be at once a farewell and a confession: I am obliged to tell
you everything that has been treasured up in my heart since it began to
love you. I will not accuse you--you have acted towards me as any other
man would have acted; you have loved me as a chattel, as a source of
joys, disquietudes and griefs, interchanging one with the other, without
which life would be dull and monotonous. I have understood all that from
the first... But you were unhappy, and I have sacrificed myself, hoping
that, some time, you would appreciate my sacrifice, that some time you
would understand my deep tenderness, unfettered by any conditions. A
long time has elapsed since then: I have fathomed all the secrets of
your soul... and I have convinced myself that my hope was vain. It has
been a bitter blow to me! But my love has been grafted with my soul; it
has grown dark, but has not been extinguished.

"We are parting for ever; yet you may be sure that I shall never love
another. Upon you my soul has exhausted all its treasures, its tears,
its hopes. She who has once loved you cannot look without a certain
disdain upon other men, not because you have been better than