“I’ve sent a messenger on horseback,” he said. “In ten minutes we shall hear all about it, meantime the servants say that part of the riverside quarter has been burnt down, on the right side of the bridge near the quay. It’s been burning since eleven o’clock; now the fire is going down.”
He did not go near the window, but stood three steps behind her; she did not turn towards him.
“It ought to have been light an hour ago by the calendar, and it’s still almost night,” she said irritably.
“‘Calendars always tell lies,’” he observed with a polite smile, but, a little ashamed; he made haste to add: “It’s dull to live by the calendar, Liza.”
And he relapsed into silence, vexed at the ineptitude of the second sentence. Liza gave a wry smile.
“You are in such a melancholy mood that you cannot even find words to speak to me. But you need not trouble, there’s a point in what you said. I always live by the calendar. Every step I take is regulated by the calendar. Does that surprise you?”
She turned quickly from the window and sat down in a low chair.
“You sit down, too, please. We haven’t long to be together and I want to say anything I like.… Why shouldn’t you, too, say anything you like?”
Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch sat beside her and softly, almost timidly took her hand.
“What’s the meaning of this tone, Liza? Where has it suddenly sprung from? What do you mean by ‘we haven’t long to be together’? That’s the second mysterious phrase since you waked, half an hour ago.”