Left alone, Clara began to pace the floor slowly. Not having known either Alexandre or the man who had died with him, she was exempt from that acute agony of grief which was her lover’s; but there was the image of two men in death-shrouds, a stirring image of martyrdom, before her vision. Pity, the hunger of revenge and a loftier feeling—the thirst of self-sacrifice to the cause of liberty—swelled her heart. Back and forth she walked, slowly, solemnly, her hands gently clasped behind her, her soul in a state of excitement that was coupled with a peculiar state of physical tranquillity, her mind apparently seeing things with a perspicacity the like of which it had never enjoyed before. Her future, her duties, her relation to the rest of the world, her whole life—all was wonderfully clear to her, and in spite of her anguish over the death of the two men she felt singularly happy. It seemed to be a matter of course that her party would now undertake some new plot, one exceeding in boldness and magnitude all its predecessors. Many lives would have to be staked. She would offer hers. Matrimony was out of the question at a time like this. She conjured that image of the insane woman clasping a rag to her bosom in support of her position. She longed to be near Pavel again. In her mind she embraced him tenderly, argued with him, opened her soul to him. It was all so clear. Her mind was so firmly made up. She fondly hoped she would make Pavel see it all in the same light.
The explanation took place the next time he called on her, a few days later.
“Oh, we shall all have to offer our lives,” he replied. “But for God’s sake love me, Clanya. It will drive me crazy if you don’t.”
“But I do, I do. I love you with every fibre of my being, Pasha. What has put it in your head to doubt it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. All I do know is that as long as my life is mine I cannot exist without you. I am frightfully lonely and that stands in the way of my work. Dash it, I feel just as I did last summer before I took courage to tell you that I was insanely in love with you.”
She drew him to her, with a smile at once of happiness and amusement.
“Poor boy! It’s enough to break one’s heart. Poor little dear!” she joked affectionately.
“I knew you would be making fun of me,” he said, yearning upon her. “Love me, Clanya, do love me, with all your heart. I cannot live apart from you, I cannot, upon my word I cannot,” he concluded piteously, like a child.
“Do you imagine it’s easy for me to be away from you?” she retorted earnestly. “I can’t be a single hour without you without missing you, without feverishly waiting to see you again. As if you did not know it! But what can we do? Is this the only sacrifice we are ready to make?”