On returning home after drill next day, Migoúrski was surprised and delighted to notice a great change in his wife. She came to meet him with a light step and beaming face as of old, and led him into their bedroom.
“Now, Josy, listen! …”
“Yes; what is it?”
“I have been thinking all night of what Rosolówski told us, and I have made up my mind. I can’t live like this—I can’t live here, I can’t! I’ll die rather than remain here!”
“But what can we do?”
“Run away!”
“Run away? How?”
“I have thought it all out. Listen. …”
And she told him the plan she had devised during the night. It was this: Migoúrski was to go away one evening and leave his overcoat on the banks of the Urál, and with it a letter saying he was going to take his life. It would be supposed that he had drowned himself. He would be searched for, and then the fact would be notified. But in reality he would be hidden. She would hide him so that no one would find him. It would be possible to live like that for a month, say, and when all had blown over, they would escape.
At first Migoúrski thought her scheme impracticable; but towards evening, after her passionate and confident persuading, he began to agree