lking! You'll be back in half an hour, won't
you, eh?"

"Of course--"

"Never mind; forgive me, dear. My brain is in a whirl from lack of
sleep. I must begin... packing, too."

Mariana went out of the room and Solomin was about to follow her when
Nejdanov stopped him.

"Solomin!"

"What is it?"

"Give me your hand. I must thank you for your kindness and hospitality."

Solomin smiled.

"What an idea!" He extended his hand.

"There's another thing I wished to say," Nejdanov continued. "Supposing
anything were to happen to me, may I hope that you won't abandon
Mariana?"

"Your future wife?

"Yes... Mariana!"

"I don't think anything is likely to happen to you, but you may set your
mind at rest. Mariana is just as dear to me as she is to you."

"Oh, I knew it... knew it, knew it! I'm so glad! thanks. So in an hour?"

"In an hour."

"I shall be ready. Goodbye, my friend!"

Solomin went out and caught Mariana up on the staircase. He had intended
saying something to her about Nejdanov, but refrained from doing so. And
Mariana guessed that he wished to say something about him and that he
could not. She, too, was silent.

XXXVII

DIRECTLY Solomin had gone, Nejdanov jumped up from the couch, walked
up and down the room several times, then stood still in the middle in
a sort of stony indecision. Suddenly he threw off his "masquerade"
costume, kicked it into a corner of the room, and put on his own
clothes. He then went up to the little three-legged table, pulled out of
a drawer two sealed letters and some other object which he thrust into
his pocket; the letters he left on the table. Then he crouched down
before the stove and opened the little door. A whole heap of ashes lay
inside. This was all that remained of Nejdanov's papers, of his sacred
book of verses ... He had burned them all in the night. Leaning against
one side of the stove was Mariana's portrait that Markelov had given
him. He had evidently not had the heart to burn that too! He took it out
carefully and put in on the table beside the two letters.

Then, with a quick resolute movement, he put on his cap and walked
towards the door. But suddenly he stopped, turned back, and went into
Mariana's room. There, he stood still for a moment, gazed round, then
approaching her narrow little bed, bent down and with one stifled sob
pressed his lips to the foot of the bed. He then jumped up, thrust his
cap over his forehead, and rushed out. With