"No, I'd better love Gronsdiev," Nadya decided and tore up the letter.
She began to think of the student, of his love, of her own love, with the result that the thoughts in her head swam apart and she thought about everything, about her mother, the street, the pencil, the piano. She was happy thinking, and found that everything was good, magnificent. Her happiness told her that this was not all, that a little later it would be still better. Soon it will be spring, summer. They will go with mother to Gorbiki in the country. Gorny will come for his holidays. He will walk in the orchard with her, and make love to her. Gronsdiev will come too. He will play croquet with her and bowls. He will tell funny, wonderful stories. She passionately longed for the orchard, the darkness, the pure sky, the stars. Again her shoulders trembled with laughter and she seemed to awake to a smell of wormwood in the room; and a branch was tapping at the window.
She went to her bed and sat down. She did not know what to do with her great happiness. It overwhelmed her. She stared at the crucifix which hung at the head of her bed and saying:
"Dear God, dear God, dear God."
[THAT WRETCHED BOY]
Ivan Ivanich Lapkin, a pleasant looking young man, and Anna Zamblizky, a young girl with a little snub nose, walked down the sloping bank and sat down on the bench. The bench was close to the water's edge, among thick bushes of young willow. A heavenly spot! You sat down, and you were hidden from the world. Only the fish could see you and the catspaws which flashed over the water like lightning. The two young persons were equipped with rods, fish hooks, bags, tins of worms and everything else necessary. Once seated, they immediately began to fish.
"I am glad that we're left alone at last," said Lapkin, looking round. I've got a lot to tell you, Anna—tremendous ... when I saw you for the first time ... you've got a nibble ... I understood then—why I am alive, I knew where my idol was, to whom I can devote my honest, hardworking life.... It must be a big one ... it is biting.... When I saw you—for the first time in my life I fell in love—fell in love passionately! Don't pull. Let it go on biting.... Tell me, darling, tell me—will you let me hope? No! I'm not worth it. I dare not even think of it—may I hope for.... Pull!
Anna lifted her hand that held the rod—pulled, cried out. A silvery green fish shone in the air.
"Goodness! it's a perch! Help—quick! It's slipping off." The perch tore itself from the hook—danced in the grass towards its native element and ... leaped into the water.