You are all alone, without relations, and unhappy.
I want to help you.
You’d help me in the same way if I were in trouble.
But you won’t look at it like that, and it’s disagreeable to you to take the smallest present from me.
You want to repay it at once, to pay for it by work, as though I were Mme. Bubnov and would taunt you with it.
If that is so, it’s a shame, Elena.”
She made no answer. Her lips quivered.
I believe she wanted to say something; but she controlled herself and was silent.
I got up to go to Natasha.
That time I left Elena the key, begging her if anybody should come and knock, to call out and ask who was there.
I felt perfectly sure that something dreadful was happening to Natasha, and that she was keeping it dark from me for the time, as she had done more than once before.
I resolved in any case to look in only for one moment for fear of irritating her by my persistence.
And it turned out I was right.
She met me again with a look of harsh displeasure.
I ought to have left her at once but my legs were giving way under me.
“I’ve only come for a minute, Natasha,” I began, “to ask your advice what I’m to do with my visitor.”
And I began briefly telling her all about Elena.
Natasha listened to me in silence.
“I don’t know what to advise you, Vanya,” she said.
“Everything shows that she’s a very strange little creature.
Perhaps she has been dreadfully illtreated and frightened.
Give her time to get well, anyway.
You think of my people for her?”
“She keeps saying that she won’t go anywhere away from me.
And goodness knows how they’ll take her, so I don’t know what to do.
Well, tell me, dear, how you are.
You didn’t seem quite well yesterday,” I said timidly.
“Yes . . . my head aches rather today, too,” she answered absentmindedly.
“Haven’t you seen any of our people?”
“No.
I shall go tomorrow.
Tomorrow’s Saturday, you know. . . .”
“Well, what of it?”
“The prince is coming in the evening.”
“Well?
I’ve not forgotten.”
“No, I only. . . .”
She stood still, exactly opposite me, and looked for a long time intently into my face.
There was a look of determination, of obstinacy, in her eyes, something feverish and wrathful.
“Look here, Vanya,” she said, “be kind, go away, you worry me.”
I got up from my chair and looked at her, unutterably astonished.
“Natasha, dear, what’s the matter?
What has happened?” I cried in alarm.
“Nothing’s happened.
You’ll know all about it tomorrow, but now I want to be alone.
Do you hear, Vanya? Go away at once.
I can’t bear, I can’t bear to look at you!”
“But tell me at least ....”
“You’ll know all about it tomorrow!
Oh, my God!