re, as Elena thought, had passed,
when suddenly she started; the clock had struck not twelve, but one. 'He
is not coming; he is going away without saying good-bye.'... The blood
rushed to her head with this thought. She felt that she was gasping
for breath, that she was on the point of sobbing.... She ran to her own
room, and fell with her face in her clasped hands on to the bed.

For half an hour she lay motionless; the tears flowed through her
fingers on to the pillow. Suddenly she raised herself and sat up,
something strange was passing in her, her face changed, her wet eyes
grew dry and shining, her brows were bent and her lips compressed.
Another half-hour passed. Elena, for the last time, strained her ears to
listen: was not that the familiar voice floating up to her? She got
up, put on her hat and gloves, threw a cape over her shoulders, and,
slipping unnoticed out of the house, she went with swift steps along the
road leading to Bersenyev's lodging.

XVIII

Elena walked with her head bent and her eyes fixed straight before her.
She feared nothing, she considered nothing; she wanted to see Insarov
once more. She went on, not noticing that the sun had long ago
disappeared behind heavy black clouds, that the wind was roaring by
gusts in the trees and blowing her dress about her, that the dust had
suddenly risen and was flying in a cloud along the road.... Large drops
of rain were falling, she did not even notice it; but it fell faster
and heavier, there were flashes of lightning and peals of thunder. Elena
stood still looking round.... Fortunately for her, there was a little
old broken-down chapel that had been built over a disused well not far
from the place where she was overtaken by the storm. She ran to it
and got under the low roof. The rain fell in torrents; the sky was
completely overcast. In dumb despair Elena stared at the thick network
of fast-falling drops. Her last hope of getting a sight of Insarov
was vanishing. A little old beggar-woman came into the chapel, shook
herself, said with a curtsy: 'Out of the rain, good lady,' and with many
sighs and groans sat down on a ledge near the well. Elena put her hand
into her pocket; the old woman noticed this action and a light came into
her face, yellow and wrinkled now, though once handsome. 'Thank you,
dear gracious lady,' she was beginning. There happened to be no purse in
Elena's pocket, but the old woman was still holding out her hand.

'I h