The vegetarian countenance dodged aside.
Another second had been won.... Telegin hung over them, brandishing the hand grenade.
"Down, I say!"
Just then something happened which none of those present, Telegin least of all, could possibly have expected.... Immediately after his second shout, an agonized scream was heard from the other side of the walnut door leading from the study to the rest pf the house, and a woman's voice cried out in frantic alarm.... The door opened, and Telegin saw Dasha standing there, wide-eyed, her fingers clinging to the doorjamb, her thin face quivering.
"Ivan!"
Beside her appeared the doctor, who seized her round the waist and dragged her away... the door banged.... All this upset the aggressive and defensive plans of Ivan Ilyich in a trice.... He made for the walnut door, pushed his shoulder against it with all his might... something gave with a cracking sound and he rushed into the dining room, still holding his lethal weapons in his hands.... Dasha was standing beside the table, clutching at the lapels of her striped dressing gown near her throat, and gulping as if she were trying to swallow something. (He noticed this with a stab of pity.) The doctor stepped back, looking like an animal at bay.
"Help!
Govyadin!" he squealed in a smothered voice.
Dasha rushed up to the walnut door and turned the key in the lock.
"Oh, God, how awful this is!'' But Ivan Ilyich did not understand her words aright: awful, indeed, it had been to break in upon Dasha with these things.
He hastily thrust the revolver and hand grenade into his pockets.
Then Dasha seized him by the arm, saying:
"Come!" and led him into the dark passage, and thence into a narrow little room in which there was a lighted candle on the seat of a chair.
The room was quite unfurnished, containing nothing but Dasha's skirt hanging on a nail, and an iron bedstead with crumpled sheets against the wall.
"Are you alone, here?" whispered Telegin.
"I read your letter."
He looked round. His lips widened in a smile and trembled.
Without answering, Dasha dragged him to the open window.
"Run! Run! Are you mad?"
From the window could be indistinctly seen, the yard, the shadows and roofs of buildings stretching towards the river, and still further down, the lights of the landing stage.
There was a damp wind from the Volga, smelling pungently of rain.... Dasha stood there, her whole body touching Ivan Ilyich, her terrified face raised, the lips parted....
"Forgive me, run, don't wait, Ivan!" she murmured, looking straight into his eyes.
How was he to tear himself away?
The wide circle of separation had closed in.
He had escaped a thousand deaths, and now he was looking into that face which was the only one in the world for him.
He bent down and kissed her. :
Her chill lips gave no response, merely quivering slightly.
"I haven't betrayed you.... Upon my word! We'll meet when things get better.... Now run, run, I implore you!"
Never, not even in the blissful days in the Crimea, had he loved her so!
It was all he could do to restrain his tears, looking at her face.
"Come with me, Dasha! Listen!
I'll wait for you at the river—tomorrow night...."
She shook her head, groaning in her agony:
"No, no... I won't!"
"You won't?"
"I can't!"
"Very well," he said. "In that case I shall stay."
He moved away and leaned against the wall.... Dasha gasped and gave a sob. ... Then she made a wild rush at him, seizing him by the hand, and dragging him back to the window.
Outside, a wicket gate squeaked and the sand crunched beneath cautious footsteps.
Dasha leant her warm face despairingly against his hands....
"I read your letter," he said again.
"I understand everything now."
At this, she stood still for a moment, her cheek pressed against his, and her arms round his neck.
"They're in the yard already. They'll kill you, kill you!"
Her loosened hair looked golden in the light of the candle.
She seemed to him a little girl, a child; she looked now just as he had thought of her that night when he had lain wounded in the wheat, clutching a sod of earth in his hand, and meditating on her stubborn, uneasy, ail-too vulnerable heart.
"Why don't you come with me, Dasha?
They're torturing you here.
You see the sort of people they are.... Anything, however terrible, would be easier for you, with me at your side.... Little one.... Whatever happens you are with me in life and in death, you are as much a part of me as my own heart."
He said all this in hurried undertones from the dark corner.