And she walked quickly away from him.
He overtook her, tried to persuade her; she heard him out in silence and then said:
"I, my mother and my father are all believers, and will die believers. Marriage at the registrar's is no marriage for me; if children are born of such a marriage I know they will be unhappy. Love is consecrated only by marriage in a church, which alone can give happiness and peace."
It seemed to him that soon she would yield; he, of course, could not give in. They parted. As she bade him good-bye the girl said:
"Let us not torment each other, don't seek meetings with me. Oh, if only you would go away from here! I cannot, I am so poor."
"I will make no promises," he replied.
The struggle between two strong natures began: they met, of course, and even more often than before; they met because they loved each other, sought meetings in the hope that one or other of them would be unable to stand the torments of an ungratified longing which was becoming more and more intense. Their meetings were full of anguish and despair; after each one he felt quite worn out and exhausted; she, all in tears, went to confess to a priest. He knew this and it seemed to him that the black wall of people in tonsures became stronger, higher and more insurmountable every day, that it grew and parted them till death.
Once, on a holiday, while walking with her through a field outside the town, he said, not threateningly, but more as if to himself:
"Do you know, it seems to me sometimes that I could kill you."
She remained silent.