"Yes, he told me. But now I am decided. I will ask permission to go with Vladimir Ivanovitch." She said this quickly, as if she had made up her mind before what to say. "How with Vladimir Ivanovitch?" asked Nekhludoff. But she interrupted him. "But if he wants me to live with him?" Here she stopped in fear, and added, "I mean to stay with him. I could expect nothing better, and perhaps I may be useful to him and others. What difference does it make to me?" One of the two things had happened--either she had fallen in love with Simonson and did not wish his sacrifice, which weighed so heavily on him, or she was still in love with Nekhludoff and renounced him for his own good, burning all bridges behind her, and throwing her fortunes in the same scale with those of Simonson. Nekhludoff understood it, and felt ashamed. "If you are in love with him," he said. "I never knew such people, you know. It is impossible not to love them. And Vladimir is entirely unlike any person I have ever known." "Yes, certainly," said Nekhludoff. "He is an excellent man, and I think----" Here she interrupted him, as if she were afraid that he would speak too much, or she would not say everything. "You will forgive me for doing that which you did not wish. You, too, must love." She said the very thing that he had just said to himself. But now he was no longer thinking so, but felt altogether different. He felt not only shame, but pity. "Is it possible that all is at an end between us?" he said. "Yes, it looks like it," she answered, with a strange smile. "But nevertheless I would like to be useful to you." "To us," she said, glancing at Nekhludoff. "We don't need anything. I am very much obliged to you. If it were not for you"--she wished to say something, but her voice began to tremble. "I don't know which of us is under greater obligation to the other. God will settle our accounts," said Nekhludoff. "Yes, God will settle them," she whispered. "Are you ready?" asked the Englishman. "Directly," answered Nekhludoff, and then he inquired of her what she knew of Kryltzoff. She quieted down and calmly told him: "Kryltzoff became very weak on the road and was taken to the hospital. Maria Pablovna wanted to become a nurse, but there is no answer yet." "Well, may I go?" she asked, noticing the Englishman who was waiting for him. "I am not yet taking leave of you," said Nekhludoff, holding out his hand to her. "Pardon me," she said in a low tone. Their eyes met, and in that strange, stern look, and in that pitiful smile, with which she said not "good-by," but "pardon me," Nekhludoff understood, that of the two suppositions concerning her decision the latter was the right one. She still loved him and thought she would mar his life by a union with him, and would free him by living with Simonson. She pressed his hand, turned quickly, and left the room. CHAPTER IX.