ds she again seated herself on the couch. Her face was
serious, her lips were tightly compressed, but her eyes were lowered,
and Foma could not see their expression. He thought that when he told
her, "I know everything about you!" she would be frightened, she would
feel ashamed and confused, would ask his forgiveness for having made
sport of him. Then he would embrace her and forgive her. But that was
not the case; it was he who was confused by her calmness. He looked at
her, searching for words to resume his speech, but found them not.

"It is better," she repeated firmly and drily. "So you have learned
everything, have you? And, of course, you've censured me, as I deserve.
I understand. I am guilty before you. But no, I cannot justify myself."

She became silent and suddenly, lifting her hands with a nervous
gesture, clasped her head, and began to adjust her hair.

Foma heaved a deep sigh. Her words had killed in him a certain hope--a
hope, whose presence in his heart he only felt now that it was dead. And
shaking his head, he said, with bitter reproach:

"There was a time when I looked at you and thought, 'How beautiful she
is, how good, the dove!' And now you say yourself, 'I am guilty.' Ah!"

The voice of the youth broke down. And the woman began to laugh softly.

"How fine and how ridiculous you are, and what a pity that you cannot
understand all this!"

The youth looked at her, feeling himself disarmed by her caressing words
and melancholy smile. That cold, harsh something, which he had in his
heart against her, was now melting before the warm light of her eyes.
The woman now seemed to him small, defenseless, like a child. She was
saying something in a gentle voice as though imploring, and forever
smiling, but he paid no attention to her words.

"I've come to you," said he, interrupting her words, "without pity. I
meant to tell you everything. And yet I said nothing. I don't feel like
doing it. My heart sank. You are breathing upon me so strangely. Eh, I
should not have seen you! What are you to me? It would be better for me
to go away, it seems."

"Wait, dearest, don't go away!" said the woman, hastily, holding out her
hand to him. "Why so severe? Do not be angry at me! What am I to
you? You need a different friend, a woman just as simple-minded and
sound-souled as you are. She must be gay, healthy. I--I am already an
old woman. I am forever worrying. My life is so empty and so weary, so
empty! Do you k