Eugene frowned at this question, but he was in such need of external help that he made as if he did not hear it, and continued:
"Well, I thought this was just casual and that I should break it off and have done with it. And I did break it off before my marriage. For nearly a year I did not see her or think about her." It seemed strange to Eugene himself to hear the description of his own condition,—"Then suddenly, I don't myself know why,—really one sometimes believes in witchcraft—I saw her, and a worm crept into my heart—and it gnaws. I reproach myself, I understood the full horror of my action, that is to say, of the act I may commit any moment, and yet I myself turned to it, and if I have not committed it is only because God preserved me. Yesterday I was on my way to see her when Liza sent for me."
"What, in the rain?"
"Yes; I am worn out, Uncle, and have decided to confess to you and to ask your help."
"Yes, of course, it's a bad thing on your own estate. People will get to know. I understand that Liza is weak and that it is necessary to spare her, but why on your own estate?"
Again Eugene tried not to hear what his uncle was saying, and hurried on to the core of the matter.
"Yes, save me from myself. That is what I ask of you. To-day I was hindered by chance. But to-morrow or next time no one will hinder me. And she knows now. Don't leave me alone."
"Yes, all right," said his uncle,—"but are you really so in love?"
"Ah, it is not that at all. It is not that, it is some kind of power that has seized me and holds me. I do not know what to do. Perhaps I shall gain strength, and then . . ."
"Well, it turns out as I suggested," said his uncle. "Let us be off to the Crimea."