“To see me?” asked Mark quickly with a look of inquiry. Has he heard too? he wondered. He remembered that Tushin admired Vera and wondered whether the “Forest Othello” was meditating tragedy and murder on the green.
“I have a commission for you,” said Tushin, handing him the letter.
Without betraying any sense of discomfort, or any sign of pain or rage Mark read it rapidly.
“Do you know the whole story?” he asked.
“Allow me to leave that question unanswered, and instead to ask you whether you have any answer to give,” said Tushin.
Mark shook his head.
“I take it for granted, that, in accordance with her wish, you will leave her in peace in the future, that you will not remind her of your existence in any way, will not write to her, nor visit this place....”
“What business is it of yours?” asked Mark. “Are you her declared lover, that you make these demands?”
“One does not need to be her fiancé to execute a commission; it is sufficient to be a friend.”
“And if I do write, or do come here, what then?” cried Mark angrily.