rtmanteau was there beside them.

"So . . ." Zinaida Fyodorovna began, but she did not finish.

We were silent. She took the note and held it for a couple of minutes
before her eyes, and during that time her face wore the same haughty,
contemptuous, proud, and harsh expression as the day before at the
beginning of our explanation; tears came into her eyes--not timid,
bitter tears, but proud, angry tears.

"Listen," she said, getting up abruptly and moving away to the
window that I might not see her face. "I have made up my mind to
go abroad with you tomorrow."

"I am very glad. I am ready to go to-day."

"Accept me as a recruit. Have you read Balzac?" she asked suddenly,
turning round. "Have you? At the end of his novel 'Pere Goriot' the
hero looks down upon Paris from the top of a hill and threatens the
town: 'Now we shall settle our account,' and after this he begins
a new life. So when I look out of the train window at Petersburg
for the last time, I shall say, 'Now we shall settle our account!'"

Saying this, she smiled at her jest, and for some reason shuddered
all over.

XV

At Venice I had an attack of pleurisy. Probably I had caught cold
in the evening when we were rowing from the station to the Hotel
Bauer. I had to take to my bed and stay there for a fortnight. Every
morning while I was ill Zinaida Fyodorovna came from her room to
drink coffee with me, and afterwards read aloud to me French and
Russian books, of which we had bought a number at Vienna. These
books were either long, long familiar to me or else had no interest
for me, but I had the sound of a sweet, kind voice beside me, so
that the meaning of all of them was summed up for me in the one
thing--I was not alone. She would go out for a walk, come back
in her light grey dress, her light straw hat, gay, warmed by the
spring sun; and sitting by my bed, bending low down over me, would
tell me something about Venice or read me those books--and I was
happy.

At night I was cold, ill, and dreary, but by day I revelled in life
--I can find no better expression for it. The brilliant warm
sunshine beating in at the open windows and at the door upon the
balcony, the shouts below, the splash of oars, the tinkle of bells,
the prolonged boom of the cannon at midday, and the feeling of
perfect, perfect freedom, did wonders with me; I felt as though I
were growing strong, broad wings which were bearing me God knows
whither. And what charm, what joy at