Annouchka came to meet us at the threshold of the door. I was expecting a fresh burst of laughter, but she approached us pale, silent, her eyes cast down.
"I have brought him back," said Gaguine, "and it is well to add that he wished to come himself."
She looked at me with a questioning air. I put my hand out to her this time, and pressed with fervor her cold and trembling fingers. I felt a profound pity for her. I understood, indeed, the sides of her character which had appeared inexplicable to me. That agitation one saw in her, that desire of putting herself forward, joined with the fear of appearing ridiculous, was quite clear to me now.
A weighty secret oppressed her constantly, her inexperienced amour propre came forward and receded incessantly, but her whole being sought the truth. I understood what attracted me towards this strange young girl: it was not only the half-savage charm bestowed upon her lovely and graceful young figure, it was also her soul that captivated me. Gaguine began to rummage over his portfolios; I proposed to Annouchka to accompany me into the vineyard. She immediately consented, with a gay and almost submissive air. We went half way down the mountain, and seated ourselves upon a stone.
"And you were not dull without us?" she asked me.
"You were then dull without me?" I replied to her.
Annouchka looked at me slyly.
"Yes!" she said, and almost immediately began,—
"The mountains must be very beautiful. They are high, higher than the clouds. Tell me what you saw. You have already told my brother, but I have not heard."
"But you did not care to hear, since you went out."