III

soon as I had confessed to myself that I loved him, I took Kátya into my confidence. She rejoiced in the news as was touched by my telling her; but she was actually able⁠—poor thing!⁠—to go to bed and sleep! For me, I walked for a long, long time about the veranda; then I went down to the garden where, recalling each word, each movement, I walked along the same avenues through which I had walked with him. I did not sleep at all that night, and saw sunrise and early dawn for the first time in my life. And never again did I see such a night and such a morning. “Only why does he not tell me plainly that he loves me?” I thought; “what makes him invent obstacles and call himself old, when all is so simple and so splendid? What makes him waste this golden time which may never return? Let him say ‘I love you’⁠—say it in plain words; let him take my hand in his and bend over it and say ‘I love you.’ Let him blush and look down before me; and then I will tell him all. No! not tell him, but throw my arms round him and press close to him and weep.” But then a thought came to me⁠—“What if I am mistaken and he does not love me?”