"Rise … rise …" said Anna hastily. "My mother is coming."
Arátoff rose.
"And take the diary and the picture. God be with you!—Poor, poor Kátya!… But you must return the diary to me," she added with animation.—"And if you write anything, you must be sure to send it to me…. Do you hear?"
The appearance of Madame Milovídoff released Arátoff from the necessity of replying.—He succeeded, nevertheless, in whispering:—"You are an angel! Thanks! I will send all that I write…."
Madame Milovídoff was too drowsy to divine anything. And so Arátoff left Kazán with the photographic portrait in the side-pocket of his coat. He had returned the copy-book to Anna, but without her having detected it, he had cut out the page on which stood the underlined words.
On his way back to Moscow he was again seized with a sort of stupor. Although he secretly rejoiced that he had got what he went for, yet he repelled all thoughts of Clara until he should reach home again. He meditated a great deal more about her sister Anna.—"Here now," he said to himself, "is a wonderful, sympathetic being! What a delicate comprehension of everything, what a loving heart, what absence of egoism! And how comes it that such girls bloom with us, and in the provinces,—and in such surroundings into the bargain! She is both sickly, and ill-favoured, and not young,—but what a capital wife she would make for an honest, well-educated man! That is the person with whom one ought to fall in love!…" Arátoff meditated thus … but on his arrival in Moscow the matter took quite another turn.
XIV
Platonída Ivánova was unspeakably delighted at the return of her nephew. She had thought all sorts of things during his absence!—"At the very least he has gone to Siberia!" she whispered, as she sat motionless in her little chamber: "for a year at the very least!"—Moreover the cook had frightened her by imparting the most authentic news concerning the disappearance of first one, then another young man from the neighbourhood. Yásha's complete innocence and trustworthiness did not in the least serve to calm the old woman.—"Because … much that signifies!—he busies himself with photography … well, and that is enough! Seize him!" And now here was her Yáshenka come back to her safe and sound! She did notice, it is true, that he appeared to have grown thin, and his face seemed to be sunken—that was comprehensible … he had had no one to look after him. But she did not dare to question him concerning his trip. At dinner she inquired:
"And is Kazán a nice town?"
"Yes," replied Arátoff.