"I would like," said she, attempting to smile, but her pale lips would not allow of it; "I would like--no, impossible," she murmured. She was silent; indeed, her voice grew fainter at every word. I sat down by her. "Anna Nicolaëvna!" I said again, and, in my turn, I could say nothing more. There was a long silence. Retaining her hand in mine, I gazed at her. Sinking down, she breathed quickly, biting her lower lip, in order to keep back the tears which were ready to flow. I continued to gaze at her; there was in her motionless and timorous attitude an expression of weakness deeply touching. It was as if she had fallen crushed upon the chair and could not stir. My heart was filled with pity. "Annouchka!" I said in a low voice. She slowly raised her eyes to mine. O the look of a woman whose heart has just opened to love! how find words to describe it?--They beseech, those eyes! they question, they give themselves up.--I could not resist them--a subtle fire ran through my veins. I bent over her head and covered it with kisses.--Suddenly my ear was struck by a trembling sound like a stifled sob. I felt a hand which trembled like a leaf pass over my hair. I raised my head and saw her face.--What a sudden transfiguration had come over it!--Fright had disappeared; her eyes had a far-away look that seemed to ask mine to join with them; her lips were slightly apart; her forehead was as pale as marble, whilst her curls floated behind her head, as if a breath of air had blown them back! I forgot everything. I drew her towards me. She offered no resistance. Her shawl slipped from her shoulders, her head fell and rested gently upon my breast, under the kisses of my burning lips. "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."