puzzle.

We go farther into the wood and begin picking mushrooms. We are
perfectly silent the whole time. Nadenka's face shows signs of
inward struggle. I hear the bark of dogs; it reminds me of my
dissertation, and I sigh heavily. Between the trees I catch sight
of the wounded officer limping painfully along. The poor fellow's
right leg is lame from his wound, and on his left arm he has one
of the variegated young ladies. His face expresses resignation to
destiny.

We go back to the house to drink tea, after which we play croquet
and listen to one of the variegated young ladies singing a song:
"No, no, thou lovest not, no, no." At the word "no" she twists her
mouth till it almost touches one ear.

"_Charmant!_" wail the other young ladies, "_Charmant!_"

The evening comes on. A detestable moon creeps up behind the bushes.
There is perfect stillness in the air, and an unpleasant smell of
freshly cut hay. I take up my hat and try to get away.

"I have something I must say to you!" Mashenka whispers to me
significantly, "don't go away!"

I have a foreboding of evil, but politeness obliges me to remain.
Mashenka takes my arm and leads me away to a garden walk. By this
time her whole figure expresses conflict. She is pale and gasping
for breath, and she seems absolutely set on pulling my right arm
out of the socket. What can be the matter with her?