"What is the matter with you?" he asked anxiously."What is the matter, Valia?" (He had invented this pet name, but only allowed himself to use it when they were quite alone, particularly in the country.)At first she declared that there was nothing the matter, but ended by turning around in her chair in a very charming and touching manner and, flinging her arms round his shoulders (he stood bending over her) and hiding her face in the slit of his waistcoat, told him everything.Without any hypocrisy or any interested motive on her part, she tried to excuse Mariana as much as she could, putting all the blame on her extreme youth, her passionate temperament, and the defects of her early education.In the same way she also, without any hidden motive, blamed herself a great deal, saying, "With a daughter of mine this would never have happened! I would have looked after her quite differently!" Sipiagin listened to her indulgently, sympathetically, but with a severe expression on his face.He continued standing in a stooping position without moving his head so long as she held her arms round his shoulders; he called her an angel, kissed her on the forehead, declared that he now knew what course he must pursue as head of the house, and went out, carrying himself like an energetic humane man, who was conscious of having to perform an unpleasant but necessary duty.
At eight o'clock, after dinner, Nejdanov was sitting in his room writing to his friend Silin.
"MY DEAR VLADIMIR,--I write to you at a critical moment of my life.I have been dismissed from this house, I am going away from here.That in itself would be nothing--I am not going alone.The girl I wrote to you about is coming with me.We are drawn together by the similarity of our fate in life, by our loneliness, convictions, aspirations, and, above all, by our mutual love.Yes, we love each other.I am convinced that I could not experience the passion of love in any other form than that which presents itself to me now.But I should not be speaking the truth if I were to say that I had no mysterious fear, no misgivings at heart...Everything in front of us is enveloped in darkness and we are plunging into that darkness.I need not tell you what we are going for and what we have chosen to do.
Mariana and I are not in search of happiness or vain delight; we want to enter the fight together, side by side, supporting each other.Our aim is clear to us, but we do not know the roads that lead to it.Shall we find, if not help and sympathy at any rate, the opportunity to work? Mariana is a wonderfully honest girl.
Should we be fated to perish, I will not blame myself for having enticed her away, because now no other life is possible for her.
But, Vladimir, Vladimir! I feel so miserable...I am torn by doubt, not in my feelings towards her, of course, but...I do not know! And it is too late to turn back.Stretch out your hands to us from afar, and wish us patience, the power of self-sacrifice, and love...most of all love.And ye, Russian people, unknown to us, but beloved by us with all the force of our beings, with our hearts' blood, receive us in your midst, be kind to us, and teach us what we may expect from you.Goodbye, Vladimir, goodbye!"Having finished these few lines Nejdanov set out for the village.
The following night, before daybreak, he stood on the outskirts of the birch grove, not far from Sipiagin's garden.A little further on behind the tangled branches of a nut-bush stood a peasant cart harnessed to a pair of unbridled horses.Inside, under the seat of plaited rope, a little grey old peasant was lying asleep on a bundle of hay, covered up to the ears with an old patched coat.
Nejdanov kept looking eagerly at the road, at the clumps of laburnums at the bottom of the garden; the still grey night lay around; the little stars did their best to outshine one another and were lost in the vast expanse of sky.To the east the rounded edges of the spreading clouds were tinged with a faint flush of dawn.Suddenly Nejdanov trembled and became alert.Something squeaked near by, the opening of a gate was heard; a tiny feminine creature, wrapped up in a shawl with a bundle slung over her bare arm, walked slowly out of the deep shadow of the laburnums into the dusty road, and crossing over as if on tip-toe, turned towards the grove.Nejdanov rushed towards her.
"Mariana?" he whispered.
"It's I!" came a soft reply from under the shawl.
"This way, come with me," Nejdanov responded, seizing her awkwardly by the bare arm, holding the bundle.
She trembled as if with cold.He led her up to the cart and woke the peasant.The latter jumped up quickly, instantly took his seat on the box, put his arms into the coat sleeves, and seized the rope that served as reins.The horses moved; he encouraged them cautiously in a voice still hoarse from a heavy sleep.
Nejdanov placed Mariana on the seat, first spreading out his cloak for her to sit on, wrapped her feet in a rug, as the hay was rather damp, and sitting down beside her, gave the order to start.The peasant pulled the reins, the horses came out of the grove, snorting and shaking themselves, and bumping and rattling its small wheels the cart rolled out on to the road.Nejdanov had his arm round Mariana's waist, while she, raising the shawl with her cold fingers and turning her smiling face towards him, exclaimed: "How beautifully fresh the air is, Aliosha!""Yes," the peasant replied, "there'll be a heavy dew!"There was already such a heavy dew that the axles of the cart wheels as they caught in the tall grass along the roadside shook off whole showers of tiny drops and the grass looked silver-grey.
Mariana again trembled from the cold.
"How cold it is!" she said gaily."But freedom, Aliosha, freedom!
