Romashov blew sharply into the chimney of the lamp. The little flickering, blue flame went out, and the room was at once dark and silent, but, in the next moment, the alarum on the table went off loudly. Romashov sat down by Alexandra Petrovna, but could not distinguish her features. A curious feeling of pain, nervousness, and faintness of heart took possession of him. He was unable to speak. "Who is on the other side of that wall?" asked Shurochka. "Can we be overheard?" "No, there's no one there, only old furniture. My landlord is a joiner. One can speak out loud." But both spoke, all the same, in a low voice, and those shyly uttered words acquired, in the darkness, something in addition awful, disquieting, treacherously stealthy. Romashov sat so close to Shurochka that he almost touched her dress. There was a buzzing in his ears, and the blood throbbed in his veins with dull, heavy beats. "Why, oh, why have you done this?" she asked quietly, but in a passionately reproachful tone. Shurochka laid her hand on his knee. Romashov felt through the cloth this light touch of her feverishly burning finger-tips. He drew a deep breath, his eyes closed, and big black ovals, the sides of which sparkled with a dazzling, bluish gleam, took shape and ran into each other before his eyes, reminding him of the legend of the wonderful lakes. "Did you forget that I told you to keep your self-control when you met _him_? No, no--I don't reproach you. You did not do it on purpose, I know that; but in that moment, when the wild beast within you was aroused, you had not even one thought of me. There was nothing to stay your arm. You never loved me." "I love you," said Romashov softly, as with a shy movement he put his trembling fingers on her hand. Shurochka withdrew her hand, though not hastily, but at once and slowly, as though she were afraid of hurting him. "I know that neither you nor he mixed my name up with this scandal; but I can tell you that all this chivalry has been wasted. There's not a house in the town where they are not gossiping about it." "Forgive me; I could not control myself. I was blinded, beside myself with jealousy," stammered Romashov. Shurochka laughed for a while to herself. At last she answered him: "You talk about 'jealousy.' Did you really think that my husband, after his fight with you, was high-minded enough to deny himself the pleasure of telling me where you had come from when you returned to the mess? He also told me one or two things about Nasanski." "Forgive me," repeated Romashov. "It's true I was there--but I did nothing to blush for in your presence. Pardon me." Shurochka suddenly raised her voice. Her voice acquired an energetic, almost severe accent, when she answered him.