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‘Marya Sergievna,’ he pronounced falteringly; ‘I… I’ve… I ought to tell you something….’

‘Speak,’ Masha responded rapidly.

Lutchkov looked round him irresolutely.

‘I can’t now…’

‘Why not?’

‘I should like to speak to you… alone….’

‘Why, we are alone now.’

‘Yes… but… here in the house….’

Masha was at her wits’ end…. ‘If I refuse,’ she thought, ‘it’s all over.’… Curiosity was the ruin of Eve….

‘I agree,’ she said at last.

‘When then? Where?’

Masha’s breathing came quickly and unevenly.

‘To-morrow… in the evening. You know the copse above the Long Meadow?’…

‘Behind the mill?’

Masha nodded.

‘What time?’

‘Wait…’

She could not bring out another word; her voice broke… she turned pale and went quickly out of the room.

A quarter of an hour later, Mr. Perekatov, with his characteristic politeness, conducted Lutchkov to the hall, pressed his hand feelingly, and begged him ‘not to forget them’; then, having let out his guest, he observed with dignity to the footman that it would be as well for him to shave, and without awaiting a reply, returned with a careworn air to his own room, with the same careworn air sat down on the sofa, and guilelessly dropped asleep on the spot.

‘You’re a little pale to-day,’ Nenila Makarievna said to her daughter, on the evening of the same day. ‘Are you quite well?’

‘Yes, mamma.’

Nenila Makarievna set straight the kerchief on the girl’s neck.

‘You are very pale; look at me,’ she went on, with that motherly solicitude in which there is none the less audible a note of parental authority: ‘there, now, your eyes look heavy too. You’re not well, Masha.’

‘My head does ache a little,’ said Masha, to find some way of escape.

‘There, I knew it.’ Nenila Makarievna put some scent on Masha’s forehead. ‘You’re not feverish, though.’

Masha stooped down, and picked a thread off the floor.

Nenila Makarievna’s arms lay softly round Masha’s slender waist.

‘It seems to me you have something you want to tell me,’ she said caressingly, not loosing her hands.

Masha shuddered inwardly.

‘I? Oh, no, mamma.’

Masha’s momentary confusion did not escape her mother’s attention.

‘Oh, yes, you do…. Think a little.’

But Masha had had time to regain her self-possession, and instead of answering, she kissed her mother’s hand with a laugh.

‘And so you’ve nothing to tell me?’

‘No, really, nothing.’

‘I believe you,’ responded Nenila Makarievna, after a short silence. ‘I know you keep nothing secret from me…. That’s true, isn’t it?’

‘Of course, mamma.’

Masha could not help blushing a little, though.

‘You do quite rightly. It would be wrong of you to keep anything from me…. You know how I love you, Masha.’

‘Oh yes, mamma.’

And Masha hugged her.

‘There, there, that’s enough.’ (Nenila Makarievna walked about the room.) ‘Oh tell me,’ she went on in the voice of one who feels that the question asked is of no special importance; ‘what were you talking about with Avdey Ivanovitch to-day?’

‘With Avdey Ivanovitch?’ Masha repeated serenely. ‘Oh, all sorts of things….’

‘Do you like him?’

‘Oh yes, I like him.’

‘Do you remember how anxious you were to get to know him, how excited you were?’

Masha turned away and laughed.

‘What a strange person he is!’ Nenila Makarievna observed good-humouredly.

Masha felt an inclination to defend Lutchkov, but she held her tongue.

‘Yes, of course,’ she said rather carelessly; ‘he is a queer fish, but still he’s a nice man!’

‘Oh, yes!… Why didn’t Fyodor Fedoritch come?’

‘He was unwell, I suppose. Ah! by the way, Fyodor Fedoritch wanted to make me a present of a puppy…. Will you let me?’

‘What? Accept his present?’

‘Yes.’

‘Of course.’

‘Oh, thank you!’ said Masha, ‘thank you, thank you!’

Nenila Makarievna got as far as the door and suddenly turned back again.

‘Do you remember your promise, Masha?’

‘What promise?’

‘You were going to tell me when you fall in love.’

‘I remember.’

‘Well… hasn’t the time come yet?’ (Masha laughed musically.) ‘Look into my eyes.’

Masha looked brightly and boldly at her mother.

‘It can’t be!’ thought Nenila Makarievna, and she felt reassured. ‘As if she could deceive me!… How could I think of such a thing!… She’s still a perfect baby….’

She went away….