My key turned almost noiselessly in the lock, so that Elena did not at once hear me come in.
I noticed that she was standing at the table turning over my books and papers.
Hearing me she hurriedly closed the book she was reading, and moved away from the table, flushing all over.
I glanced at the book. It was my first novel, which had been republished in book form and had my name on the titlepage.
“Someone knocked here while you were away!” she said in a tone which seemed to taunt me for having locked her in.
“Wasn’t it the doctor?” I said. “Didn’t you call to him, Elena?”
“No!
I made no answer, but took my parcel, untied it, and took out the dress I had bought.
“Here, Elena, my dear!” I said going up to her. “You can’t go about in such rags as you’ve got on now.
So I’ve bought you a dress, an everyday one, very cheap. So there’s no need for you to worry about it. It only cost one rouble twenty kopecks.
Wear it with my best wishes.”
I put the dress down beside her.
She flushed crimson and looked at me for some time with open eyes.
She was extremely surprised and at the same time it seemed to me that she was horribly ashamed for some reason.
But there was a light of something soft and tender in her eyes.
Seeing that she said nothing I turned away to the table.
What I had done had evidently impressed her, but she controlled herself with an effort, and sat with her eyes cast down.
My head was going round and aching more and more.
The fresh air had done me no good.
Meanwhile I had to go to Natasha’s.
My anxiety about her was no less than yesterday. On the contrary it kept growing more and more.
Suddenly I fancied that Elena called me.
I turned to her.
“Don’t lock me in when you go out,” she said, looking away and picking at the border of the sofa, as though she were entirely absorbed in doing so.
“I will not go away from you.”
“Very well, Elena, I agree, But what if some stranger comes?
There’s no knowing who may!”
“Then leave me the key and I’ll lock myself in and if they knock I shall say, ‘not at home.’”
And she looked slyly at me as much as to say,
“See how simply that’s done!”
“Who washes your clothes?” she asked suddenly, before I had had time to answer her.
“There’s a woman here, in this house.”
“I know how to wash clothes.
And where did you get the food yesterday?”
“At a restaurant.”
“I know how to cook, too.
I will do your cooking.”
“That will do, Elena. What can you know about cooking?
You’re talking nonsense. . . .”
Elena looked down and was silent.
She was evidently wounded at my remark.
Ten minutes at least passed. We were both silent.
“Soup!” she said suddenly, without raising her head.
“What about soup?
What soup?” I asked, surprised.
“I can make soup.
I used to make it for mother when she was ill.
I used to go to market too.”
“See, Elena, just see how proud you are,” I said, going up to her and sitting down beside her on the sofa.
“I treat you as my heart prompts me.