"Katia!" he began, in a low, agitated voice, "this is no jesting we are engaged in, at this moment. Our fate is being decided. I ask you to say nothing, only to hear me. Why are you torturing me thus?" But I broke in. "Say no more, you are right," said I, coldly, as if it were not I, but some evil spirit speaking with my lips. "If you knew what you are doing!" he exclaimed in a trembling voice. I began to cry, and I felt my heart somewhat relieved. He was sitting near me, silent. I was sorry for him, ashamed of myself, troubled by what I had done. I did not look at him. I felt sure that he was looking at me, and that his eyes were perplexed or severe. I turned; his eyes were indeed fixed upon me, but they were kind and gentle and seemed entreating forgiveness. I took his hand, and said: "Pardon me! I do not know, myself, what I said." "Yes, but I know what you said, and I know that you spoke the truth." "What truth?" I asked. "That we must go to St. Petersburg. This is no longer the place for us." "As you wish." He took me in his arms and kissed me. "You forgive me?" he said, "I have been to blame concerning you...." In the evening I was at the piano a long time playing for him, while he walked up and down the room, repeating something in a low tone to himself. This was a habit with him, and I often asked him what he was murmuring thus, and he, still thoughtful, would repeat it again to me; generally it was poetry, sometimes some really absurd thing, but even the very absurdity would show me what frame of mind he was in. "What are you murmuring there, now?" I asked after a time. He stood still, thought a little, then, smiling, repeated the two lines from Lermontoff: "And he, the madman, invoked the tempest, As if, in the tempest, peace might reign!" "Yes, he is more than a man; he sees everything!" thought I; "how can I help loving him!" I left the piano, took hold of his hand, and began to walk up and down with him, measuring my steps by his. "Well!" he said, looking down at me with a smile. "Well!" I echoed; and our two hearts seemed to spring to each other once more. At the end of a fortnight, before the fêtes, we were in St. Petersburg. CHAPTER VII.