For the first time, I vividly recalled the commencement of my life in the country, my plans; for the first time, the thought came to my mind: how happy he was then! And I suddenly felt guilty towards him. "But then, why not check me, why dissimulate before me, why avoid all explanation, why insult me?" I asked myself. "Why not use the power of his love? But perhaps he no longer loved me?"--Yet, whether he was to blame or not, here was this on my cheek, this kiss which I still felt. The nearer I came to Heidelberg, and the more clearly my husband's image presented itself, the more terrible became the imminent meeting with him. "I will tell him all, all; my eyes will be blinded with tears of repentance," thought I, "and he will forgive me." But I did not myself know what was this "all" that I was going to tell him, nor was I absolutely sure that he would forgive me. In fact, when I entered his room and saw his face, so tranquil despite its surprise, I felt no longer able to tell him anything, to confess anything, to entreat his forgiveness for anything. An unspeakable sorrow and deep repentance were weighing me down. "What were you thinking of?" he said: "I intended joining you at Baden to-morrow." But a second glance at me seemed to startle him. "Is anything wrong? What is the matter with you?" he exclaimed. "Nothing," I replied, keeping back my tears. "I have come away ... I am not going back ... Let us go--to-morrow if we can--home to Russia!" He was silent for some time, watching me narrowly. "Come, tell me what has occurred," he said, at length. I felt my face grow scarlet, and my eyes sank. His were glittering with an indefinable foreboding, and hot anger. I dreaded the thoughts which might be assailing him, and, with a power of dissimulation of which I could not have believed myself capable, I made haste to answer: "Nothing has occurred,--but I was overwhelmed by weariness and dejection; I was alone, I began to think of you, and of our life. How long I have been to blame towards you! After this, you may take me with you wherever you wish! Yes, I have long been to blame," I repeated, and my tears began to fall fast. "Let us go back to the country," I cried, "and forever!" "Ah! my love, spare me these sentimental scenes," said he, coldly; "for you to go to the country will be all very well, just now, for we are running a little short of money; but as for its being 'forever,' that is but a notion: I know you could not stay there long! Come, drink a cup of tea,--that is the best thing to do," he concluded, rising to call a servant. I could not help imagining what his thoughts of me doubtless were, and I felt indignant at the frightful ideas which I attributed to him as I met the look of shame and vigilant suspicion which he bent upon me. No, he will not, and he cannot comprehend me!... I told him that I was going to see the child, and left him. I longed to be alone, and free to weep, weep, weep.... CHAPTER IX.