Annouchka: A Tale

"I am yours!" she murmured feebly.

Suddenly the thought of Gaguine flashed across me.

"What are we doing?" I cried, pushing her from me convulsively. "Your brother knows everything; he knows that we are here together!"

Annouchka fell back upon the chair.

"Yes," I said, rising and going away from her, "your brother knows everything! I was forced to tell him all."

"Forced?" she stammered. She seemed hardly to understand me.

"Yes, yes," I repeated harshly, "and it is your fault, – yours, yours alone! What reason had you to give up your secret? Were you forced to tell your brother everything? He came to me this morning and repeated all you had told him."

I tried not to look any more at her, and paced the room.

"Now," I replied, "all is lost, – all, absolutely all."

Annouchka attempted to rise.

"Stay!" I cried. "Stay, I beseech you; fear nothing, you have to do with a man of honor! But, for heaven's sake, speak! What has frightened you? Have I changed towards you? As to myself, when your brother came to me yesterday, I could not do otherwise than tell him what our relations were."

"Why tell her all that?" I thought to myself, and the idea that I was a cowardly deceiver, that Gaguine was aware of our rendezvous, that all was disclosed – lost beyond redemption – immediately crossed my mind.

"I did not send for my brother last night," she said, with a choking voice, "he came of himself."

"But do you see what this has led to? Now you wish to go away."

"Yes, I must go," she said, in a very low voice. "I besought you to come here to say farewell."

"And you think, perhaps, that to part from you costs me nothing?"

"But why was it necessary to confide in my brother?" replied Annouchka in a stupefied tone.

"I repeat to you, I could not do otherwise. If you had not betrayed yourself" —

"I was shut up in my room," she replied naïvely. "I did not know that the landlady had another key."

This innocent excuse at the moment put me in a rage; and now I cannot think of it without deep emotion. Poor child, what an upright and frank soul!

"So all is at an end," I replied once more; "at an end – ; and we must part."

I looked at her furtively. The color mounted to her face; shame and terror – I felt it only too keenly – seized her. On my side, I walked to and fro, speaking as if in delirium.

"There was in my heart," I continued, "a feeling just springing up, which, if you had left it to time, would have developed! You have yourself broken the bond that united us; you have failed to put confidence in me."

While I spoke, Annouchka leaned forward more and more. – Suddenly she fell upon her knees, hid her face in her hands, and began to sob. I ran to her, I attempted to raise her, but she resisted obstinately.

Woman's tears thoroughly upset me. I cried out to her: —

"Anna Nicolaëvna! Annouchka, – pray, for heaven's sake, – calm yourself, – I beseech you."

And I took her hand in mine.

But at the moment when I least expected it, she suddenly arose, then, like a flash, ran towards the door and disappeared.

Dame Louise, who entered the room a few moments later, found me in the same place, as if struck by a thunderbolt.

I could not understand how this interview could have ended so abruptly, and in such a ridiculous manner, before I had expressed a hundredth part of what I had to say; before I even could foresee what the consequences of it were.

"Mademoiselle has gone?" Dame Louise asked me, raising her yellow eyebrows.

I looked at her with a stupefied air, and left.

XVII

I passed through the town and walked straight ahead to the fields. A feeling of vexed disappointment filled my heart. I loaded myself with reproaches. Why did I not appreciate the motive that had induced this young girl to change the place of our meeting? Why did I not appreciate how hard it would be for her to go to this old woman's house? Why, finally, did I not stay away?

Alone with her in that dark, isolated room, I had had the courage to thrust her away, and to remonstrate with her; and, now her image pursued me, I asked her pardon – her pale face, her eyes timid and full of tears; her hair in disorder, flowing over her bended neck; the touch of her forehead as it rested upon my breast; all these remembrances made me beside myself, and I thought I still heard her murmuring, "I am yours!"

I reflected: I have obeyed the voice of my conscience. – But no? it was false! for, most certainly, I should never have wished in my heart for such a dénouement. – And, then, to be separated from her, to live without her, shall I have the strength? – "Fool! miserable fool that I am!" I cried angrily.

In the meantime night was approaching. I directed my hurried steps towards the dwelling of Annouchka.

XVIII

Gaguine came out to meet me.

"Have you seen my sister?" he cried, from a distance.

"She is not at home then?" I asked him.

"No."

"Not returned?"

"No."

"No, – but I have something to confess," continued he: "in spite of the promise I made you, I couldn't help going to the chapel. I didn't find her there. Did she not go there, then?"

"No, not to the chapel."

"And you have not seen her?"

I was obliged to admit that I had seen her.

"Where then?"

"At Dame Louise's. – I left her about an hour ago; I thought she was about to return."