“What is the matter with you?” cried his mother.

“Where are you going, Rodya?” asked Dounia rather strangely.

“Oh, I’m quite obliged to⁠ ⁠…” he answered vaguely, as though hesitating what he would say. But there was a look of sharp determination in his white face.

“I meant to say⁠ ⁠… as I was coming here⁠ ⁠… I meant to tell you, mother, and you, Dounia, that it would be better for us to part for a time. I feel ill, I am not at peace.⁠ ⁠… I will come afterwards, I will come of myself⁠ ⁠… when it’s possible. I remember you and love you.⁠ ⁠… Leave me, leave me alone. I decided this even before⁠ ⁠… I’m absolutely resolved on it. Whatever may come to me, whether I come to ruin or not, I want to be alone. Forget me altogether, it’s better. Don’t inquire about me. When I can, I’ll come of myself or⁠ ⁠… I’ll send for you. Perhaps it will all come back, but now if you love me, give me up⁠ ⁠… else I shall begin to hate you, I feel it.⁠ ⁠… Goodbye!”