"Give … give me this diary," said Arátoff in a fainting voice.—"Give it to me … and the photograph … you must certainly have another—but I will return the diary to you…. But I must, I must…."
In his entreaty, in the distorted features of his face there was something so despairing that it even resembled wrath, suffering…. And in reality he was suffering. It seemed as though he had not been able to foresee that such a calamity would descend upon him, and was excitedly begging to be spared, to be saved….
"Give it to me," he repeated.
"But … you … you were not in love with my sister?" said Anna at last.
Arátoff continued to kneel.
"I saw her twice in all … believe me!… and if I had not been impelled by causes which I myself cannot clearly either understand or explain … if some power that is stronger than I were not upon me…. I would not have asked you…. I would not have come hither…. I must … I ought … why, you said yourself that I was bound to restore her image!"
"And you were not in love with my sister?" asked Anna for the second time.
Arátoff did not reply at once, and turned away slightly, as though with pain.
"Well, yes! I was! I was!—And I am in love with her now…." he exclaimed with the same desperation as before.
Footsteps became audible in the adjoining room.