near the road, along which a certain dignified
general's family used often to be passing. The presence of an outside
person was at first even a relief to Elena, from whose face every trace
of colour vanished, directly she heard Insarov's step; but her heart
sank at the thought that he might go without a word with her alone. He,
too, seemed confused, and avoided meeting her eyes. 'Surely he will not
go directly,' thought Elena. Insarov was, in fact, turning to take leave
of Anna Vassilyevna; Elena hastily rose and called him aside to the
window. The priest's wife was surprised, and tried to turn round; but
she was so tightly laced that her stays creaked at every movement, and
she stayed where she was.

'Listen,' said Elena hurriedly; 'I know what you have come for; Andrei
Petrovitch told me of your intention, but I beg, I entreat you, do not
say good-bye to us to-day, but come here to-morrow rather earlier, at
eleven. I must have a few words with you.'

Insarov bent his head without speaking.

'I will not keep you.... You promise me?'

Again Insarov bowed, but said nothing.

'Lenotchka, come here,' said Anna Vassilyevna, 'look, what a charming
reticule.'

'I worked it myself,' observed the priest's wife.

Elena came away from the window.

Insarov did not stay more than a quarter of an hour at the Stahovs'.
Elena watched him secretly. He was restless and ill at ease. As before,
he did not know where to look, and he went away strangely and suddenly;
he seemed to vanish.

Slowly passed that day for Elena; still more slowly dragged on the long,
long night. Elena sat on her bed, her arms clasping her knees, and her
head laid on them; then she walked to the window, pressed her burning
forehead against the cold glass, and thought and thought, going over and
over the same thoughts till she was exhausted. Her heart seemed turned
to stone, she did not feel it, but the veins in her head throbbed
painfully, her hair stifled her, and her lips were dry. 'He will come...
he did not say good-bye to mamma... he will not deceive me... Can Andrei
Petrovitch have been right? It cannot be... He didn't promise to come
in words... Can I have parted from him for ever----?' Those were the
thoughts that never left her, literally never left her; they did not
come and come again; they were for ever turning like a mist moving about
in her brain. 'He loves me!' suddenly flashed through her, setting her
whole nature on fire, and she gazed