He yielded his right hand to her.
“What is your name?” he asked, trembling all over and feeling that he was overcome and that his desire had already passed beyond control.
“Marie. Why?”
She took his hand and kissed it, and then put her arm round his waist and pressed him to herself.
“What are you doing?” he said. “Marie, you are a devil!”
“Oh, perhaps. What does it matter?”
And embracing him she sat down with him on the bed.
At dawn he went out into the porch.
“Can this all have happened? Her father will come and she will tell him everything. She is a devil! What am I to do? Here is the axe with which I chopped off my finger.” He snatched up the axe and moved back towards the cell.
The attendant came up.
“Do you want some wood chopped? Let me have the axe.”
Sergius yielded up the axe and entered the cell. She was lying there asleep. He looked at her with horror, and passed on beyond the partition, where he took down the peasant clothes and put them on. Then he seized a pair of scissors, cut off his long hair, and went out along the path down the hill to the river, where he had not been for more than three years.
A road ran beside the river and he went along it and walked till noon. Then he went into a field of rye and lay down there. Towards evening he approached a village, but without entering it went towards the cliff that overhung the river. There he again lay down to rest.