“Yes. I have given you my word, and so long as you remain the man I love—I shall not take it back.”
Nejdanov remained sitting on the chair, Mariana standing before him. His arms were about her waist, her’s were resting on his shoulders.
“Yes, no,” Nejdanov thought ... “when I last held her in my arms like this, her body was at least motionless, but now I can feel it—against her will, perhaps—shrink away from me gently!”
He loosened his arms and Mariana did in fact move away from him a little.
“If that’s so,” he said aloud, “if we must run away from here before the police find us ... I think it wouldn’t be a bad thing if we were to get married. We may not find another such accommodating priest as Father Zosim!”
“I am quite ready,” Mariana observed.
Nejdanov gave her a searching glance.
“A Roman maiden!” he exclaimed with a sarcastic half-smile. “What a feeling of duty!”
Mariana shrugged her shoulders.
“We must tell Solomin.”