“Do you know why I’m so glad when I look at you? Do you know why I love you so today?”

“Well?” I asked, and my heart trembled.

“I love you so, because you haven’t fallen in love with me. Another man in your place would, I’m sure, have begun to pester me, to worry me. He would have been sighing, he would have looked so pathetic, but you’re so sweet!”

Here she clasped my hand with such force that I almost cried out. She laughed.

“Oh, what a good friend you are!” she began a minute later, speaking very seriously. “You’re a real godsend to me. What would I have done if you’d not been with me now? How unselfish you are! How truly you love me! When I am married, we shall be such good friends. You’ll be more than a brother to me. I shall love you almost as I love him!…”

Somehow I couldn’t help feeling terribly sad at that moment. However, something resembling laughter stirred in my soul.

“Your nerves are on edge,” I said. “You’re afraid. You don’t think he’ll come.”

“Goodness, what nonsense you talk!” she said. “If I hadn’t been so happy, I do believe I’d have burst out crying to hear you express such doubts, to hear you reproaching me like that. You’ve given me an idea, though. And I admit you’ve given me a lot to think about, but I shall think about it later. I don’t mind telling you frankly that you’re quite right. Yes, I’m not quite myself tonight. I’m in awful suspense, and every little thing jars on me, excites me, but please don’t let us discuss my feelings!…”

At that moment we heard footsteps, and a man loomed out of the darkness. He was coming in our direction. She almost cried out. I released her hand and made a movement as though I were beginning to back away. But we were both wrong: it was not he.

“What are you so afraid of? Why did you let go of my hand?” she said, giving me her hand again. “What does it matter? We’ll meet him together. I want him to see how we love one another.”

“How we love one another?” I cried.

“Oh, Nastenka, Nastenka,” I thought, “how much you’ve said in that word! Such love, Nastenka, at certain moments makes one’s heart ache and plunges one’s spirit into gloom. Your hand is cold, but mine burns like fire. How blind you are, Nastenka! How unbearable a happy person sometimes is! But I’m afraid I could not be angry with you, Nastenka!”

At last my heart overflowed.

“Do you know, Nastenka,” I cried, “do you know what I’ve gone through all day?”

“Why? What is it? Tell me quickly! Why haven’t you said anything about it before?”

“Well, first of all, Nastenka, after I had carried out all your commissions, taken the letter, seen your good friends, I—I went home and—and went to bed.”

“Is that all?” she interrupted, laughing.

“Yes, almost all,” I replied, making an effort to keep calm, for I already felt foolish tears starting to my eyes. “I woke an hour before we were due to meet. But I don’t seem to have really slept at all. I don’t know how to describe the curious sensation I had. I seemed to be on my way here. I was going to tell you everything.