“I came, because I knew, I knew that you have long had something to say to me, but have hesitated. Du courage. There is no one to see or hear us. Espérez tout....”
“What do you want? Speak out.”
“Que vous m’aimez. I have known it for a long time. Vous m’avez fui, mais la passion vous a ramené ici....”
He seized her roughly by the hand, and pushed her to the edge of the precipice.
“Ah, de gráce. Mais pas si brusquement ... qu’est-ce que vous faites ... mais laissez donc,” she groaned.
Her anxiety was not altogether groundless, for she stood on the edge of an abrupt fall of the ground, and he grasped her hand more determinedly.
“You want love,” he cried to the terrified woman. “Listen, to-night is love’s night. Do you hear the sighs, the kisses, the breath of passion?”
“Let me go! Let me go! I shall fall.”
“Away from here,” he cried, loosening his grasp and drawing a deep breath.
Like a madman he ran across the garden and the flower garden into the yard, where Egorka was washing his hands and face at the spring.