"Don't be afraid, sir, there shall be no mistake.
Your interviews have all passed through me, hitherto. You've always turned to me for help."
"I know.
Not till she comes of herself, anyway.
Bring me some tea, if you can, at once."
The old man had hardly gone out, when almost at the same instant the door reopened, and Darya Pavlovna appeared in the doorway.
Her eyes were tranquil, though her face was pale.
"Where have you come from?" exclaimed Stavrogin.
"I was standing there, and waiting for him to go out, to come in to you.
I heard the order you gave him, and when he came out just now I hid round the corner, on the right, and he didn't notice me."
"I've long meant to break off with you, Dasha... for a while... for the present.
I couldn't see you last night, in spite of your note.
I meant to write to you myself, but I don't know how to write," he added with vexation, almost as though with disgust.
"I thought myself that we must break it off.
Varvara Petrovna is too suspicious of our relations."
"Well, let her be."
"She mustn't be worried.
So now we part till the end comes."
"You still insist on expecting the end?"
"Yes, I'm sure of it."
"But nothing in the world ever has an end."
"This will have an end.
Then call me. I'll come.
Now, good-bye."
"And what sort of end will it be?" smiled Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch.
"You're not wounded, and... have not shed blood?" she asked, not answering his question.
"It was stupid. I didn't kill anyone. Don't be uneasy.
However, you'll hear all about it to-day from every one.
I'm not quite well."
"I'm going.
The announcement of the marriage won't be to-day?" she added irresolutely.
"It won't be to-day, and it won't be to-morrow. I can't say about the day after to-morrow. Perhaps we shall all be dead, and so much the better.
Leave me alone, leave me alone, do."
"You won't ruin that other... mad girl?"
"I won't ruin either of the mad creatures. It seems to be the sane I'm ruining. I'm so vile and loathsome, Dasha, that I might really send for you, 'at the latter end,' as you say. And in spite of your sanity you'll come.
Why will you be your own ruin?"
"I know that at the end I shall be the only one left you, and... I'm waiting for that."
"And what if I don't send for you after all, but run away from you?"
"That can't be. You will send for me."
"There's a great deal of contempt for me in that."
"You know that there's not only contempt."
"Then there is contempt, anyway?"
"I used the wrong word.
God is my witness, it's my greatest wish that you may never have need of me."
"One phrase is as good as another.
I should also have wished not to have ruined you."
"You can never, anyhow, be my ruin; and you know that yourself, better than anyone," Darya Pavlovna said, rapidly and resolutely.
"If I don't come to you I shall be a sister of mercy, a nurse, shall wait upon the sick, or go selling the gospel.
I've made up my mind to that.
I cannot be anyone's wife. I can't live in a house like this, either.