She interrupted him with a tender and sorrowful smile, of which there was an echo in her voice. "I believe you, dear; I believe you mean what you say, and I also know you will never be able to keep your promise. Oh, if I could only cherish the slightest hope of that, I would abandon everything and follow you. Ah, Romochka, my handsome boy, I call to mind a certain legend which tells how God from the beginning created every human being whole, but afterwards broke it into two pieces and threw the bits broadcast into the world. And ever afterward the one half seeks in vain its fellow. Dear, we are both exactly two such unhappy creatures. With us there are so many sympathies, antipathies, thoughts, dreams, and wishes in common. We understand each other by means of only half a hint, half a word--nay, even without words. And yet our ways must lie apart. Alas! this is now the second time in my life----" "Yes, I know it." "Has he told you this?" asked Shurochka eagerly. "No; it was only by accident I got to know it." They were both silent. In the sky the first stars began to light up and display themselves to the eye as little, trembling, emerald, sparkling points. From the right you might hear a weak echo of voices, laughter and the strains of a song; but in all the rest of the wood, which was sunk in soft, caressing darkness, reigned a deep, mysterious silence. The great blazing pyre was not visible from this spot in the woods, but the crests from the nearest oaks now and then reflected the flaming red glow that, by its rapid changes from darkness to light, reminded one of distant and vivid sheet-lightning. Shurochka softly and silently caressed Romashov's hair and face. When he succeeded in seizing her fingers between his lips, she herself pressed the palm of her hand against his mouth. "I do not love my husband," she said slowly and in an absent voice. "He is rough, indelicate, and devoid of any trace of fine feeling. Ah, I blush when I speak of it--we women never forget how a man first takes forcible possession of us. Besides, he is so insanely jealous. Even to-day he worries me about that wretched Nasanski. He forces confessions from me, and makes the most insignificant events of those times the ground for the wildest conclusions. Ah--shame, he has unblushingly dared to put the most disgusting questions to me. Good God! all that was only an innocent, childish romance, but the mere mention of Nasanski's name makes him furious." Now and then, whilst she spoke, a nervous trembling was noticeable in her voice, and her hand, still continuing its caress, was thrilled, as it were, by a shudder. "Are you cold?" asked Romashov. "No, dear--not at all," she replied gently. "The night is so bewitchingly beautiful, you know." Suddenly, with a burst of uncontrollable passion, she exclaimed, "Oh, my beloved, how sweet to be here with you." Romashov took her hand, softly caressed the delicate fingers, and said in a shy, diffident tone: