“Till tomorrow,” she whispered, and softly, as though afraid of breaking upon the silence of the night, she embraced me. “We have no secrets from one another. I must tell my mother and my sister at once.⁠ ⁠… It’s so dreadful! Mother is all right; mother likes you⁠—but Lida!”

She ran to the gates.

“Goodbye!” she called.

And then for two minutes I heard her running. I did not want to go home, and I had nothing to go for. I stood still for a little time hesitating, and made my way slowly back, to look once more at the house in which she lived, the sweet, simple old house, which seemed to be watching me from the windows of its upper storey, and understanding all about it. I walked by the terrace, sat on the seat by the tennis ground, in the dark under the old elm tree, and looked from there at the house. In the windows of the top storey where Misuce slept there appeared a bright light, which changed to a soft green⁠—they had covered the lamp with the shade. Shadows began to move.⁠ ⁠… I was full of tenderness, peace, and satisfaction with myself⁠—satisfaction at having been able to be carried away by my feelings and having fallen in love, and at the same time I felt uncomfortable at the thought that only a few steps away from me, in one of the rooms of that house there was Lida, who disliked and perhaps hated me. I went on sitting there wondering whether Genya would come out; I listened and fancied I heard voices talking upstairs.