the shutters and whistling in the yard.

In the morning Granny complained that the wind had blown down all
the apples in the garden, and broken down an old plum tree. It was
grey, murky, cheerless, dark enough for candles; everyone complained
of the cold, and the rain lashed on the windows. After tea Nadya
went into Sasha's room and without saying a word knelt down before
an armchair in the corner and hid her face in her hands.

"What is it?" asked Sasha.

"I can't . . ." she said. "How I could go on living here before, I
can't understand, I can't conceive! I despise the man I am engaged
to, I despise myself, I despise all this idle, senseless existence."

"Well, well," said Sasha, not yet grasping what was meant. "That's
all right . . . that's good."

"I am sick of this life," Nadya went on. "I can't endure another
day here. To-morrow I am going away. Take me with you for God's
sake!"

For a minute Sasha looked at her in astonishment; at last he
understood and was delighted as a child. He waved his arms and began
pattering with his slippers as though he were dancing with delight.

"Splendid," he said, rubbing his hands. "My goodness, how fine that
is!"

And she stared at him without blinking, with adoring eyes, as though