It was still light outside, and the reflection of the setting sun lay still on the branches of the linden-trees before the windows, but the room was already filled with twilight, and the sideboard, the clock and the cupboard seemed to have grown in size. The huge pendulum peeped out every moment from beneath the glass of the clock-case, and flashing dimly, was hiding with a weary sound now on the right side, now on the left. Foma looked at the pendulum and he began to feel awkward and lonesome. Luba arose and lighted the lamp which was hanging over the table. The girl’s face was pale and stern.
“You went for me,” said Foma, reservedly. “What for? I can’t understand.”
“I don’t want to speak to you!” replied Luba, angrily.
“That’s your affair. But nevertheless, what wrong have I done to you?”
“You?
“I.”
“Understand me, I am suffocating! It is close here. Is this life? Is this the way how to live? What am I? I am a hanger-on in my father’s house. They keep me here as a housekeeper. Then they’ll marry me! Again housekeeping. It’s a swamp. I am drowning, suffocating.”
“And what have I to do with it?” asked Foma.
“You are no better than the others.”
“And therefore I am guilty before you?”