for a time.

"No... yes I have, though not now."

"When?"

"You must wait awhile. Perhaps--tomorrow, perhaps--never. I know so
little--what are you really like?"

"But," Nejdanov began, "I sometimes feel... that between us--"

"But you hardly know me at all," Mariana interrupted him. "Well, wait a
little. Tomorrow, perhaps. Now I have to go to... my mistress. Goodbye,
till tomorrow."

Nejdanov took a step or two in advance, but turned back suddenly.

"By the way, Mariana Vikentievna... may I come to school with you one
day before it closes? I should like to see what you do there."

"With pleasure... But it was not the school about which I wished to
speak to you."

"What was it then?"

"Tomorrow," Mariana repeated.

But she did not wait until the next day, and the conversation between
her and Nejdanov took place on that same evening in one of the linden
avenues not far from the terrace.

XIII

SHE came up to him first.

"Mr. Nejdanov," she began, "it seems that you are quite enchanted with
Valentina Mihailovna."

She turned down the avenue without waiting for a reply; he walked by her
side.

"What makes you think so?"

"Is it not a fact? In that case she behaved very foolishly today. I can
imagine how concerned she must have been, and how she tried to cast her
wary nets!"

Nejdanov did not utter a word, but looked at his companion sideways.

"Listen," she continued, "it's no use pretending; I don't like Valentina
Mihailovna, and you know that well enough. I may seem unjust... but I
want you to hear me first--"

Mariana's voice gave way. She suddenly flushed with emotion; under
emotion she always gave one the impression of being angry.

"You are no doubt asking yourself, 'Why does this tiresome young lady
tell me all this?' just as you must have done when I spoke to you...
about Mr. Markelov."

She bent down, tore off a small mushroom, broke it to pieces, and threw
it away.

"You are quite mistaken, Mariana Vikentievna," Nejdanov remarked. "On
the contrary, I am pleased to think that I inspire you with confidence."

This was not true, the idea had only just occurred to him.

Mariana glanced at him for a moment. Until then she had persistently
looked away from him.

"It is not that you inspire me with confidence exactly," she went on
pensively; "you are quite a stranger to me. But your position--and
mine--are very similar. We are both alike--unhappy; that is a bond
between us."