to us... but it makes no difference to
me."

The footsteps ceased.

"Well?" Mariana asked, turning to Nejdanov. "What shall I do? How shall
I help you? Tell me... tell me quickly! What shall I do?"

"I don't know yet," Nejdanov replied. "I have received a note from
Markelov--"

"When did you receive it? When?"

"This evening. He and I must go and see Solomin at the factory
tomorrow."

"Yes... yes.... What a splendid man Markelov is! Now he's a real
friend!"

"Like me"

"No--not like you."

"How?"

She turned away suddenly.

"Oh! Don't you understand what you have become for me, and what I am
feeling at this moment?"

Nejdanov's heart beat violently; he looked down. This girl who loved
him--a poor, homeless wretch, who trusted him, who was ready to
follow him, pursue the same cause together with him--this wonderful
girl--Mariana--became for Nejdanov at this moment the incarnation of
all earthly truth and goodness--the incarnation of the love of mother,
sister, wife, all the things he had never known; the incarnation of his
country, happiness, struggle, freedom!

He raised his head and encountered her eyes fixed on him again.

Oh, how this sweet, bright glance penetrated to his very soul!

"And so," he began in an unsteady voice, "I am going away tomorrow...
And when I come back, I will tell... you--" (he suddenly felt it awkward
to address Mariana as "you") "tell you everything that is decided upon.
From now on everything that I do and think, everything, I will tell thee
first."

"Oh, my dear!" Mariana exclaimed, seizing his hand again. "I promise
thee the same!"

The word "thee" escaped her lips just as simply and easily as if they
had been old comrades.

"Have you got the letter?"

"Here it is."

Mariana scanned the letter and looked up at him almost reverently.

"Do they entrust you with such important commissions?" He smiled in
reply and put the letter back in his pocket. "How curious," he said, "we
have come to know of our love, we love one another--and yet we have not
said a single word about it."

"There is no need," Mariana whispered, and suddenly threw her arms
around his neck and pressed her head closely against his breast. They
did not kiss--it would have seemed to them too commonplace and rather
terrible--but instantly took leave of one another, tightly clasping each
other's hands.

Mariana returned for the candle which she had left on the window-sill
of the empty room. Only