Here she springs to her feet, and, pulling me up with her, glues herself to my breast with a vehemence which causes me momentarily to push her away. Upon this, bursting into tears, she tends towards me again, and kisses me with lips so dry as almost to cut me--she kisses me in a way which penetrates to my very soul. "You have been oh, so good!" she whispers softly. As she speaks, the earth seems to be sinking under my feet. Then she tears herself away, glances around the courtyard, and darts to a corner where, under a fence, a clump of herbage is sprouting. "Go now," she adds in a whisper. "Yes, go." Then, with a confused smile, as, crouching among the herbage as though it had been a small cave, she rearranges her hair, she adds: "It has befallen so. Ah, me! May God grant unto me His pardon!" Astonished, feeling that I must be dreaming, I gaze at her with gratitude, for I sense an extraordinary lightness to be present in my breast, a radiant void through which joyous, intangible words and thoughts keep flying as swallows wheel across the firmament. "Amid a great sorrow," she adds, "even a small joy becomes a great felicity." Yet as I glance at the woman's bosom, whereon moist beads are standing like dewdrops on the outer earth; as I glance at that bosom, whereon the sun's rays are finding a roseate reflection, as though the blood were oozing through the skin, my rapture dies away, and turns to sorrow, heartache, and tears. For in me there is a presentiment that before the living juice within that bosom shall have borne fruit, it will have become dried up. Presently, in a tone almost of self-excuse, and one wherein the words sound a little sadly, she continues: "Times there are when something comes pouring into my soul which makes my breasts ache with the pain of it. What is there for me to do at such moments save reveal my thoughts to the moon, or, in the daytime, to a river? Oh God in Heaven! And afterwards I feel as ashamed of myself!... Do not look at me like that. Why stare at me with those eyes, eyes so like the eyes of a child?" "YOUR face, rather, is like a child's," I remark. "What? Is it so stupid?" "Something like that." As she fastens up her bodice she continues: "Soon the time will be five o'clock, when the bell will ring for Mass. To Mass I must go today, for I have a prayer to offer to the Mother of God... Shall you be leaving here soon?" "Yes--as soon, that is to say, as I have received back my passport." "And for what destination?" "For Alatyr. And you?" She straightens her attire, and rises. As she does so I perceive that her hips are narrower than her shoulders, and that throughout she is well-proportioned and symmetrical. "I? As yet I do not know. True, I had thought of proceeding to Naltchik, but now, perhaps, I shall not do so, for all my future is uncertain." Upon that she extends to me a pair of strong, capable arms, and proposes with a blush: "Shall we kiss once more before we part?"