He tapped with his stick on the pavement, and gaily
greeted his acquaintance. As he walked down the Morskaya Street, he saw a face he knew at the window of one of the houses. His acquaintance beckoned to him to come in. He looked and saw it was the Duomo and went in, dined there and stayed till the evening; in the evening he set off for the theatre and from the theatre to supper. He tried not to remember home at all; he knew what was awaiting him there.
As he anticipated on his return he found some half-a-dozen notes on the table and a page asleep in the hall. The boy had been ordered not to go away till he had seen him. The notes were full of reproaches, questions and traces of tears. The next day he had to go and make his excuses. He talked about business at the office. They arrived at some sort of a reconciliation.
Every three days, the same thing was repeated in one direction or another. And so again and again. Julia began to grow thinner, never went out and saw no one, but she said nothing, for Alexandr was irritated by reproaches.
A fortnight later Alexandr had arranged to spend the day with friends, but in the morning he received a note from Julia, begging him to spend the whole day with her and to come rather earlier. She wrote that she was ill and in low spirits, that her nerves were out of order, &c. He was irritated; however, he went to inform her that he could not stay with her, that he had a lot of business to attend to.
"Oh, of course: a dinner at the theatre, tobogganing— very important business," she said languidly.
" What does that mean ? " he asked, with annoyance; " so, you spy upon me, it seems; that I won't put up with."
He got up and was going.
" Stop a minute, listen !" she said, " I have something to say."
" Fve no time."
" One minute; sit down."
Unwillingly he sat down on the edge of a chair.
Clasping her hands she gazed uneasily at him, as though she were trying first to read on his face the answer to what she wanted to ask.
He writhed in his seat from impatience.
" Make haste! I've no time to spare!" drily.
She sighed. *
" You don't love me then ? * she asked, with a slight movement of the head.
"The old story!" he said, stroking his hat with his hands.
" How sick you are of it!" she answered.
He got up and with rapid strides began to walk up and down the room. In an instant a sob was heard.
" That is all that was wanting!" he said almost violently, standing still near her, " you have tortured me enough !"
u I torture you !" she cried, and sobbed the more.
"It's unendurable!" said Alexandr, getting ready to
go.
" There, I won't, I won't!" she said, hurriedly wiping away her tears; " see, I am not crying, only don't go away, sit down."
^Sne tried to smile, but the tears would still trickle down her cheeks. Alexandr felt sorry for her. He sat down and swung his legs. He began to put question after question to / himself, and arrived at the conclusion that h e had grown ^ L cold and did not l o ve Ju lia. But why ? God only knows! She loved him more passionately every day; was it not because of that ? Good Heavens, what an irony of fate! All the conditions of happiness were there. There was no obstacle to hinder them, there was not even any other feeling to draw him away, yet he had grown cold! Oh, life ! But how should he soothe Julia ? Was he to sacrifice himself? to drag through a long wearisome existence with her; to play a part he could not, but not to play a part would mean every minute to see tears, to hear reproaches, to torture her and himself. .... Should he begin to explain to her at once his uncle's theories about the changeable nature of the feelings—a likely idea! she was weeping already, when she knew nothing—but there! What was to be done ?
Julia, seeing that he did not speak, took his hand and gazed into his eyes. He slowly turned away and gently disengaged his hand. He not only felt no attraction, but at her touch a cold and unpleasant shiver ran through his frame. She redoubled her caresses. He did not respond to them, and grew even more cold and sullen. She suddenly snatched her hand away from him and grew crimson. Womanly pride, outraged self-love, shame were stirred in
her. She raised her head, drew herself up, and blushed from vexation.
" Leave me!" she said in broken tones.
He went off at once without any kind of reply. But as the sound of his steps began to die away she rushed after him !
"Alexandr Fedoritch! Alexandr Fedoritch!" she cried.
He came back.
" Where are you going ? "
" Why, you just told me to go."
" And you were glad to escape. Stop!"
" I've no time ! "
She took him by the hand, and again melted into tender, tearful words and prayers. He showed no sympathy in look, or word, or gesture, but stood as though he were made of wood, shifting from one leg to the other. His coldness drove her to frenzy. Threats and reproaches were showered on him. Who would have recognised in her the gentle, nervous woman? Her hair fell down in disorder, her eyes glowed with feverish brilliance, her cheeks were flushed, her features were strangely distorted—" How ugly s he is ! " thought Alexandr, looking at her with a grimace.
" 1 will be revenged on you !" sne said. a Do you think [ you can so easily trifle with a woman's destiny ? and you shall see what I will do! you will be sick of your life!
How consoling now to hear of your ruin I could kill
you myself!" she shrieked wildly, furiously.
" How stupid it is, how absurd!" thought Alexandr, shrugging his shoulders.
Seeing that Alexandr remained unmoved by her threats, she suddenly changed to a gentle, pathetic tone, then gazed silently at him.
" Have pity on me !" she began to say ; "don't cast me aside; what can I do now without you ? I could not bear separation. I should die! Think a little: women love very differently from men; more tenderly, more passionately. For them love is everything; and especially is it so for me; other women like flirtation, society, bustle and activity; I was never suited for that—mine is a different character. I love quiet, solitude, books, music, and you more than everything in the world."
u-"
Alexandr showed his impatience.
" Very well! you do not love me," she went on more quickly, "but fulfil your promise; marry me, only be mine* you shall be free: do what you like, even love whom you like, if only I may sometimes—now and then—see you. Oh, for God's sake, pity me, pity me !"
She burst into tears and could not go on. Her emotion had exhausted her; she fell on to the sofa, her eyes closed and her teeth clenched, while her mouth worked convulsively. She fell into hysterics. An hour later she recovered and came to herself. Her maid was bustling about near her. She looked round. "But where?" .... she asked.
" He has gone away ! "
" Gone away!" she repeated dejectedly, and sat a long while silent and motionless.
The next day note after note was despatched to Alexandr. He did not make his appearance nor send any answer. The third and the fourth day it was the same. Julia wrote to Piotr Ivanitch, and asked him to come to her about important business; his wife she did not like, because she was young and handsome, and happened to be Alexandras aunt.
Piotr Ivanitch found her seriously ill, almost at death's door. He set off to see Alexandr.
" What a hypocrite ! fie !" he said.
" How so! " said Alexandr.
" Just look at him, as though it were no concern of his ! He does not know how to make a woman love him indeed ! why, he's driven her wild about him !"