And Markelov? He is in danger ... and what are we doing? Markelov spares us both, gives us the opportunity of being happy, does not part us.... What makes him do it? Is it also magnaminity ... or contempt?
And did we run away from that hateful house merely to live like turtle doves?
Thus Mariana pondered, while the feeling of agitation and annoyance grew stronger and stronger within her. Her pride was hurt. Why had everyone forsaken her? Everyone. This stout woman had called her a bird, a beauty ... why not quite plainly, a doll? And why did Nejdanov not go alone, but with Pavel? It’s just as if he needed someone to look after him! And what are really Solomin’s convictions? It’s quite clear that he’s not a revolutionist! And could any one really think that he does not treat the whole thing seriously?
These were the thoughts that whirled round, chasing one another and becoming entangled in Mariana’s feverish brain. Pressing her lips closely together and folding her arms like a man, she sat down by the window at last and remained immovable, straight up in her chair, all alertness and intensity, ready to spring up at any moment. She had no desire to go to Tatiana and work; she wanted to wait alone. And she sat waiting obstinately, almost angrily. From time to time her mood seemed strange and incomprehensible even to herself.... Never mind. “Am I jealous?” flashed across her mind, but remembering poor Mashurina’s figure she shrugged her shoulders and dismissed the idea.
Mariana had been waiting for a long time when suddenly she heard the sound of two persons’ footsteps coming up the stairs. She fixed her eyes on the door ... the steps drew nearer. The door opened and Nejdanov, supported under the arm by Pavel, appeared in the doorway. He was deadly pale, without a cap, his dishevelled hair hung in wet tufts over his forehead, he stared vacantly straight in front of him. Pavel helped him across the room (Nejdanov’s legs were weak and shaky) and made him sit down on the couch.
Mariana sprang up from her seat.
“What is the meaning of this? What’s the matter with him? Is he ill?”
As he settled Nejdanov, Pavel answered her with a smile, looking at her over his shoulder.
“You needn’t worry. He’ll soon be all right. It’s only because he’s not used to it.”
“What’s the matter?” Mariana persisted.