“You must not marry that man! You must not, you shall not!” He gripped my shoulders as if he would crush them. “Tell me, tell me that you do not love him.”
At that instant on the black background of my bedroom there appeared a form—Prilukoff! Erect in the doorway he stood watching us. Naumoff had his back to him, but across his shoulder I looked Prilukoff in the face, only a few steps from me.
My heart stood still. What would he do?
Knowing as I did his ungovernable frenzies of jealousy, his madness, his recklessness, I wondered whether he would leap forward and spring at Naumoff's throat? Would there be blows and groans and a death-struggle in my tranquil, shadowy room? Would there be a turmoil and a scandal, during which the bond of infamy that tied me to Prilukoff would be revealed to Naumoff? Revealed to Kamarowsky and to the world?
The fear of tragedy and disgrace kept me stark and terror-stricken, rooted to the spot. Then I saw Prilukoff move. Slowly he raised his right arm. His right hand clutched something which I could not see. Suddenly—incredible sight!—I saw him open his mouth wide; and never, never have I seen anything more grotesque and terrifying than that figure in the darkness with mouth gaping wide....
But still his right arm moved, rising slowly and relentlessly until it was on a level with that terrible open mouth. What did the hand hold? Did I not see a gleam of polished metal?
I tried to scream, but no sound issued from my parched throat. I could see the whites of his staring upturned eyes, and the hand now motionless just in front of the open mouth—
From my throat came a hoarse whisper: “Don't, for heaven's sake! Wait—”
Naumoff, in amazement at these words which he believed to be addressed to himself, relaxed his hold. “What is it?” he whispered. “Is any one there?”
Step by step I drew back from him, with my fascinated eyes still fixed upon Prilukoff, who stood motionless as a statue in the same dreadful attitude.