“I desire to remember nothing. Do not disturb the past. It can never be brought back again.” Into Oblomov’s face there had come a full consciousness of his power to think, to reason, and to will. “What is it you wish me to do? From the world to which you would abduct me I have parted for ever; and to solder together two pieces which have started asunder is impossible. I have grown to look upon this nook as my world. Should you uproot me from it, I shall die.” “But look at the place, at the people with whom you are living!” “I know what you mean--I am perfectly conscious of the facts. Ah, Andrei, believe me when I say that so well do I feel and understand things that for many a day past I have been ashamed to show myself abroad. Yet I cannot accompany you on your road. Even did I wish it, such a course is out of my power. Possibly, when you were last here, I _might_ have made the attempt; but now”--here he dropped his eyes for a moment and paused--“now it is too late. Go, and waste no further time upon me. Your friendship, as God in heaven knows, I value; but your disturbance of my peace I do _not_ value.” “Nothing that you can say will turn me from my purpose. I intend to carry you off, ard the more so because I suspect certain things. Look here. Put on a garment of some sort, and come and spend the evening at my rooms. I have much to tell you, for I suppose you know what is afoot at our place?” Oblomov looked at him inquiringly. “Ah, I had forgotten,” Schtoltz went on. “You no longer go into society. Well, come with me, and I will tell you the whole story. Also, do you know who is waiting for me in a carriage at the gates? I will go and call her in.” “What? Olga?” As the words burst tremulously from Oblomov’s lips his face underwent a sudden change. “For God’s sake do not bring her here! Go, go for God’s sake!” But the elder man refused to move, although his friend half started to push him towards the door. “I cannot return to her without you,” he said. “I have pledged my word on that. If you will not come with me to-day, then you must come to-morrow. You are merely putting me off for a time: you will never put me off for ever. Even should it be the day after to-morrow, we still shall meet again.” Oblomov said nothing, but hung his head as though afraid to meet Schtoltz’s eye. “When are you coming, therefore?” went on Schtoltz. “Olga will be sure to ask me when.” “Ah, Andrei,” cried the other in a tone of affectionate appeal as he embraced his friend and laid his head upon his shoulder, “Pray leave me and--_forget_ me.” “What? For ever?” cried Schtoltz in astonishment as he withdrew a little from Oblomov’s embrace in order the better to look him in the face. “Yes,” whispered Oblomov. Schtoltz stepped back a pace or two.