“Wait a little,” said Akulina in an imploring voice.
“What for? I have already said to you, Good-by!”
“Wait,” repeated Akulina.
Victor again stretched himself on the ground and began to whistle. Akulina kept looking at him steadfastly. I could see that she was growing agitated by degrees—her lips twitched, her pale cheeks were reddening.
“Victor Alexandrovich,” she said at last in a broken voice, “it’s a sin for you, it’s a sin, Victor Alexandrovich, by God!”
“What’s a sin?” he asked, knitting his brows. He raised his head and turned to her.
“It’s a sin, Victor Alexandrovich. If you would only say a good word to me before leaving—if you would only say one word to me, miserable little orphan that I am—”
“But what shall I say to you?”
“I don’t know. You know that better than I do, Victor Alexandrovich. Here you are going away—if you would only say one word.—What have I done to deserve this?”
“How strange you are! What can I say?”