anger,
probably just because he was tall and a fine figure. After two
meetings she was weary of him, had thrown him over, and did not
that, she thought now, give him the right to treat her as he chose?

"Here I'll say good-bye to you, darling," said Laevsky. "Ilya
Mihalitch will see you home."

He nodded to Kirilin, and, quickly crossing the boulevard, walked
along the street to Sheshkovsky's, where there were lights in the
windows, and then they heard the gate bang as he went in.

"Allow me to have an explanation with you," said Kirilin. "I'm not
a boy, not some Atchkasov or Latchkasov, Zatchkasov. . . . I demand
serious attention."

Nadyezhda Fyodorovna's heart began beating violently. She made no
reply.

"The abrupt change in your behaviour to me I put down at first to
coquetry," Kirilin went on; "now I see that you don't know how to
behave with gentlemanly people. You simply wanted to play with me,
as you are playing with that wretched Armenian boy; but I'm a
gentleman and I insist on being treated like a gentleman. And so I
am at your service. . . ."

"I'm miserable," said Nadyezhda Fyodorovna beginning to cry, and
to hide her tears she turned away.

"I'm miserable too," said Kirilin, "but what of that?"

Kirilin was silent for a space, then he said distinctly and
emphatically:

"I repeat, madam, that if you do not give me an interview this
evening, I'll make a scandal this very evening."

"Let me off this evening," said Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, and she did
not recognise her own voice, it was so weak and pitiful.

"I must give you a lesson. . . . Excuse me for the roughness of my
tone, but it's necessary to give you a lesson. Yes, I regret to say
I must give you a lesson. I insist on two interviews--to-day and
to-morrow. After to-morrow you are perfectly free and can go wherever
you like with any one you choose. To-day and to-morrow."

Nadyezhda Fyodorovna went up to her gate and stopped.

"Let me go," she murmured, trembling all over and seeing nothing
before her in the darkness but his white tunic. "You're right: I'm
a horrible woman. . . . I'm to blame, but let me go . . . I beg
you." She touched his cold hand and shuddered. "I beseech you. . . ."

"Alas!" sighed Kirilin, "alas! it's not part of my plan to let you
go; I only mean to give you a lesson and make you realise. And
what's more, madam, I've too little faith in women."

"I'm miserable. . . ."

Nadyezhda Fyodorovna listened to the even