“What are we to do?” she repeated hardly audibly after Groholsky.

“Well, yes, what are we to do? Come, decide, wise little head⁠ ⁠… I love you, and a man in love is not fond of sharing. He is more than an egoist. It is too much for me to go shares with your husband. I mentally tear him to pieces, when I remember that he loves you too. In the second place you love me.⁠ ⁠… Perfect freedom is an essential condition for love.⁠ ⁠… And are you free? Are you not tortured by the thought that that man towers forever over your soul? A man whom you do not love, whom very likely and quite naturally, you hate.⁠ ⁠… That’s the second thing.⁠ ⁠… And thirdly.⁠ ⁠… What is the third thing? Oh yes.⁠ ⁠… We are deceiving him and that⁠ ⁠… is dishonourable. Truth before everything, Liza. Let us have done with lying!”

“Well, then, what are we to do?”

“You can guess.⁠ ⁠… I think it necessary, obligatory, to inform him of our relations and to leave him, to begin to live in freedom. Both must be done as quickly as possible.⁠ ⁠… This very evening, for instance.⁠ ⁠… It’s time to make an end of it. Surely you must be sick of loving like a thief?”

“Tell! tell Vanya?”

“Why, yes!”

“That’s impossible! I told you yesterday, Michel, that it is impossible.”

“Why?”

“He will be upset. He’ll make a row, do all sorts of unpleasant things.⁠ ⁠… Don’t you know what he is like? God forbid! There’s no need to tell him. What an idea!”

Groholsky passed his hand over his brow, and heaved a sigh.