"Who is it?"
"Oh, God, no; let's drop it. I can't bear any more now. Good night."
She stretched her hand out fumblingly, but since she was looking at the floor, she could not find mine, and both our hands circled helplessly round each other for a moment. Then she opened the door and was gone. I called to her, begging her to wait, seized my hat, and hurried after her. An empty staircase. I rushed down and opened the street door. An empty street. She must have run.
"I'll try to see her tomorrow," I thought.
One day, two days, but I did not see her, though I went to all the usual places. Another day--nothing. Then I thought I would go up to her home and inquire about her. At first this did not seem to me too improper, but when it came to the point, I hesitated. There is, after all, something to be lost by making a fool of oneself. But was I not a kind of uncle? No--yes, of course, but still--
A week passes, two weeks, three. The girl has quite disappeared; I hope she hasn't had an accident. I mount the stairs to her home and ring the bell....
She's already gone away; they left as soon as they were married, last week. She's married to Nikolai, Carpenter Nikolai.
March--what a month! The winter is over, yet there's no telling how much longer it may still last. That's what March is for.