“I heard your voice,” she began, “and came out at once. Is it so easy for you to leave us, bad boy?”
“I have come to say good-bye to you, princess,” I answered, “probably for ever. You have heard, perhaps, we are going away.”
Zinaïda looked intently at me.
“Yes, I have heard. Thanks for coming. I was beginning to think I should not see you again. Don’t remember evil against me. I have sometimes tormented you, but all the same I am not what you imagine me.” She turned away, and leaned against the window.
“Really, I am not like that. I know you have a bad opinion of me.”
“I?”
“Yes, you … you.”
“I?” I repeated mournfully, and my heart throbbed as of old under the influence of her overpowering, indescribable fascination. “I? Believe me, Zinaïda Alexandrovna, whatever you did, however you tormented me, I should love and adore you to the end of my days.”
She turned with a rapid motion to me, and flinging wide her arms, embraced my head, and gave me a warm and passionate kiss. God knows whom that long farewell kiss was seeking, but I eagerly tasted its sweetness. I knew that it would never be repeated. “Good-bye, good-bye,” I kept saying …
She tore herself away, and went out. And I went away. I cannot describe the emotion with which I went away. I should not wish it ever to come again; but I should think myself unfortunate had I never experienced such an emotion.