"I know, I know," Gagin interrupted me. "I have not the least right to expect an answer from you, and my question was improper--to the last degree. But what was I to do? One cannot play with fire. You do not know Assja. It would be possible for her to drown herself--to run away, to seek an interview with you. Any other girl would know how to conceal everything and to wait opportunities--but not she. This is her first experience. That is the worst of it! If you had seen her as she lay sobbing at my feet, you would share my anxiety." I became thoughtful. Gagin's expression, "seek an interview with you," sank into my heart. It seemed abominable not to answer his confidence with confidence as free. "Yes," I said at last. "You are right. An hour ago I received a note from your sister. Here it is." Gagin took the note, read it hurriedly, and let his hands fall on his knees. The expression of his features was ludicrous enough, but I was in no mood for laughter. "You're a man of honor. I repeat it," he said. "But what is to be done now? What! She wishes to hurry away from here, yet she writes to you and reproaches herself for her own want of foresight. And when can she have written this? What does she want of you?" I succeeded in calming him, and we began to talk, as coolly as we could, about what we might have to do. At last we decided as follows: To guard against any desperate step on her part, I was to meet Assja at the appointed place, and have a fair explanation with her. Gagin pledged himself to remain at home and to avoid all appearance of knowing about the note. In the evening we agreed to meet again. "I have full confidence in you," said Gagin, and pressed my hand strongly. "Spare Assja and myself. But we shall leave to-morrow," he added as he rose, "for you will not marry Assja." "Give me time till evening," I said. "So be it. But you will not marry her." He went away. I threw myself on the sofa and shut my eyes. My head spun round like a top. Too many emotions came crowding upon me. Gagin's frankness annoyed me, and I was angry with Assja. Her love distressed and delighted me at once. I could not understand how she could betray herself to her brother. The necessity of a hasty, an instantaneous decision tormented me. "Marry a seventeen-year-old girl of such a disposition! How can I do it?" I said, getting up from my seat. * * * * * I crossed the Rhine at the appointed hour, and the first face that met me on the opposite shore was that of the same boy who had come to me in the morning. He seemed to be waiting for me. "From Miss Annette," he said, and gave me another letter. Assja wrote to appoint another place for our meeting. In half an hour I was to come, not to the chapel, but to the house of Frau Luise, knock at the door, and ascend to the third story. "'Yes' again?" the boy asked me.