I tried not to look any more at her, and paced the room.
"Now," I replied, "all is lost,—all, absolutely all."
Annouchka attempted to rise.
"Stay!" I cried. "Stay, I beseech you; fear nothing, you have to do with a man of honor! But, for heaven's sake, speak! What has frightened you? Have I changed towards you? As to myself, when your brother came to me yesterday, I could not do otherwise than tell him what our relations were."
"Why tell her all that?" I thought to myself, and the idea that I was a cowardly deceiver, that Gaguine was aware of our rendezvous, that all was disclosed—lost beyond redemption—immediately crossed my mind.
"I did not send for my brother last night," she said, with a choking voice, "he came of himself."
"But do you see what this has led to? Now you wish to go away."
"Yes, I must go," she said, in a very low voice. "I besought you to come here to say farewell."
"And you think, perhaps, that to part from you costs me nothing?"
"But why was it necessary to confide in my brother?" replied Annouchka in a stupefied tone.