"This way!" whispered an old woman's voice. "Some one is waiting for you."
I advanced a couple of steps, stumbling. A skinny hand clutched mine.
"Is it you, Frau Luise?" I asked.
"Yes," the same voice answered. "Yes, it is I, my handsome young gentleman." The old woman led me up one steep staircase and stopped at the bottom of a second. By the dull light which came in through a little window I recognized the wrinkled visage of the burgomaster's widow. A hateful, sly smile distorted her shrunken lips and half closed the little bleared eyes. She pointed out a small door to me. I opened it with a hand that trembled, and shut it again behind me.
It was nearly dark in the little room which I entered, and at first I did not discover Assja. Wrapped in a great cloak, she was sitting in a chair by the window, with her head averted and almost hidden, like a frightened bird. Her breath came quickly, and she was trembling in every limb. I felt an inexpressible pity for her. I approached her; she turned her head away still more.
"Anna Nicolaevna!" I addressed her.
She started suddenly as if she wished to look at me, but dared not. I took her hand. It was cold, and lay in mine like a dead thing.
"I wished," Assja began, and tried to smile, but her pallid lips would not obey her—"I wanted—no, I cannot," she said, and was silent. And in truth her voice broke at every word.
I sat down beside her.