"Anna Nicolaevna!" I repeated, and again found nothing further to say.
There was a silence. I still held her hand and looked at her. She was in the same constrained attitude as before: breathed heavily, and bit her under lip in order to keep back her tears. My eyes were fixed on her. There was something touchingly helpless in her shy immobility. It seemed as if she had just been able to reach the chair, and had fallen there. My heart overflowed.
"Assja!" I whispered, almost inaudibly.
Slowly she raised her eyes to mine. Oh, the glance of a woman who loves! Who shall describe it? Her eyes expressed entreaty, trust, questioning, surrender. I could not withstand their magic. A burning fire thrilled me like the prick of red-hot needles. I bent down and pressed my lips to her hand.
A little hurried sound as of a broken sob fell on my ear, and I felt on my hair the tender touch of a hand that trembled like a leaf. I raised my head, and looked in her face. The expression of fear was gone from her features. Her glance swept past me into the room. Her lips were a little apart, her forehead white as marble, and the hair pushed off as if the wind had blown it back. I forgot everything; I drew her toward me; willingly her hand obeyed, and her whole body followed; the shawl slipped from her shoulders, and her head bowed silently to my breast and laid itself against my burning lips.
"Yours!" she whispered faintly.
Already my arm was about her, when suddenly, like a gleam of lightning, the thought of Gagin flashed through my brain. "What are we doing?" I cried, and moved roughly away. "Your brother knows all—he knows that we are here together."
Assja sank into her chair.
"Yes," I went on, while I rose and went over to the other side of the room. "Your brother knows everything. I had to tell him everything."
"You had to?" she stammered unintelligibly. She could not come to herself, and only half comprehended me.