'Eighty roubles.'

'Well, that's not much,' observed Insarov; 'but everything's a help.'

'But I can get more. I will borrow. I will ask mamma.... No, I won't ask
mamma for any.... But I can sell my watch.... I have earrings, too, and
two bracelets... and lace.'

'Money's not the chief difficulty, Elena; the passport; your passport,
how about that?'

'Yes, how about it? Is a passport absolutely necessary?'

'Absolutely.'

Elena laughed. 'What a queer idea! I remember when I was little... a
maid of ours ran away. She was caught, and forgiven, and lived with us a
long while... but still every one used to call her Tatyana, the runaway.
I never thought then that I too might perhaps be a runaway like her.'

'Elena, aren't you ashamed?'

'Why? Of course it's better to go with a passport. But if we can't----'

'We will settle all that later, later, wait a little,' said Insarov.
'Let me look about; let me think a little. We will talk over everything
together thoroughly. I too have money.'

Elena pushed back the hair that fell over on his forehead.

'O Dmitri! how glorious it will be for us two to set off together!'

'Yes,' said Insarov, 'but there, when we get there----'

'Well?' put in Elena, 'and won't it be glorious to die together too?
but no, why should we die? We will live, we are young. How old are you?
Twenty-six?'

'Yes, twenty-six.'

'And I am twenty. There is plenty of time before us. Ah, you tried to
run away from me? You did not want a Russian's love, you Bulgarian! Let
me see you trying to escape from me now! What would have become of us,
if I hadn't come to you then!'

'Elena, you know what forced me to go away.'

'I know; you were in love, and you were afraid. But surely you must have
suspected that you were loved?'

'I swear on my honour, Elena, I didn't.'

She gave him a quick unexpected kiss. 'There, I love you for that too.
And goodbye.'

'You can't stop longer?' asked Insarov.

'No, dearest. Do you think it's easy for me to get out alone? The
quarter of an hour was over long ago.' She put on her cape and hat. 'And
you come to us to-morrow evening. No, the day after to-morrow. We shall
be constrained and dreary, but we can't help that; at least we shall see
each other. Good-bye. Let me go.'

He embraced her for the last time. 'Ah, take care, you have broken my
watch-chain. Oh, what a clumsy boy! There, never mind. It's all the
better. I will go to Kuznetsky bridge, and leave it t