“How could he be so cruel?” I cried in indignation.
“Ah, I have not told all, Vladimir,” she said with a sorrowful sigh. “The Prince plotted with his friend, Stepán Nekhlindoff, in order to obtain a divorce, but I thwarted their vile scheme. Nekhlindoff tried to compromise me, but I repelled his advances, for although I have so far abandoned my marriage vow as to love you while I am still wedded, I have done nothing by which my husband can obtain the freedom he seeks. Since I left Markovka I have wandered about, to Paris, Vienna, Brussels, with no protection against the dishonourable conspiracy. I grew tired of life—I—”
“You have a friend in me,” I interrupted.
“Ah, yes, my love,” she exclaimed, stroking my hair tenderly, and bending to kiss me. “Though I have been in the midst of luxury and gaiety, my life has been very dark and dreary. But happiness has now returned.”
“It gives me joy to hear you speak like this, Irene,” I said. “Nothing will, I hope, occur to part us, or cause our love to be less stronger than it is at this moment.”
“What can?” she asked quickly, raising her eyebrows. “We trust one another. I have money enough for both. What more?”
The horrible thought that the knife in my pocket must sooner or later be plunged into her heart flashed across my mind, causing me to shudder.
“No,” I replied with a feigned, hollow laugh, “I—it is only a foolish fancy on my part. My joy seems almost too perfect to be lasting.”
“I am yours; you are mine,” she said passionately. “We shall marry and live together always as happy as we are to-day.”
Twilight had faded, and it had grown almost dark. I had risen and was standing beside her chair, bending and kissing her soft cheek, when suddenly the door opened and the maid entered to light the lamps.