“Oh, if there were someone,” he looked round in despair. “Some passerby! You will get your feet wet, you⁠ ⁠… will lose your reason!”

“It’s all right; it’s all right,” she tried to reassure him. “That’s right. I am not so frightened with you. Hold my hand, lead me.⁠ ⁠… Where are we going now? Home? No! I want first to see the people who have been murdered. His wife has been murdered they say, and he says he killed her himself. But that’s not true, is it? I want to see for myself those three who’ve been killed⁠ ⁠… on my account⁠ ⁠… it’s because of them his love for me has grown cold since last night.⁠ ⁠… I shall see and find out everything. Make haste, make haste, I know the house⁠ ⁠… there’s a fire there.⁠ ⁠… Mavriky Nikolaevitch, my dear one, don’t forgive me in my shame! Why forgive me? Why are you crying? Give me a blow and kill me here in the field, like a dog!”

“No one is your judge now,” Mavriky Nikolaevitch pronounced firmly. “God forgive you. I least of all can be your judge.”