‘Oh! really? when? directly?’
‘No, to-morrow.’
‘Oh! to-morrow. Very well.’
Litvinov’s soul was suddenly filled with boundless pity. He took Tatyana’s hand and kissed it humbly, like a sinner; her heart throbbed faintly and she felt no happiness.
In the night, at two o’clock, Kapitolina Markovna, who was sleeping in the same room with her niece, suddenly lifted up her head and listened.
‘Tanya,’ she said, ‘you are crying?’
Tatyana did not at once answer.
‘No, aunt,’ sounded her gentle voice, ‘I’ve caught a cold.’