‘What! isn’t it the truth? Isn’t it the truth?—tell me, tell me.’
Tatyana turned quite round to Litvinov; her face, with her hair brushed back from it, approached his face, and her eyes, which for so long had not looked at him, seemed to penetrate into his eyes.
‘Isn’t it the truth?’ she repeated.
He said nothing, did not utter a single sound. He could not have lied at that instant, even if he had known she would believe him, and that his lie would save her; he was not even able to bear her eyes upon him. Litvinov said nothing, but she needed no answer, she read the answer in his very silence, in those guilty downcast eyes—and she turned away again and dropped the book.... She had been still uncertain till that instant, and Litvinov understood that; he understood that she had been still uncertain—and how hideous, actually hideous was all that he was doing.
He flung himself on his knees before her.
‘Tanya,’ he cried, ‘if only you knew how hard it is for me to see you in this position, how awful to me to think that it’s I ... I! My heart is torn to pieces, I don’t know myself, I have lost myself, and you, and everything.... Everything is shattered, Tanya, everything! Could I dream that I ... I should bring such a blow upon you, my best friend, my guardian angel?... Could I dream that we should meet like this, should spend such a day as yesterday!...’
Tatyana was trying to get up and go away. He held her back by the border of her dress.
‘No, listen to me a minute longer. You see I am on my knees before you, but I have not come to beg your forgiveness; you cannot, you ought not to forgive me. I have come to tell you that your friend is ruined, that he is falling into the pit, and would not drag you down with him.... But save me ... no! even you cannot save me. I should push you away, I am ruined, Tanya, I am ruined past all help.’
Tatyana looked at Litvinov.
‘You are ruined?’ she said, as though not fully understanding him. ‘You are ruined?’