brother, Iván Vassílievitch. (The maiden's heart was relieved, she
breathed more freely.) Thou knowest not, my life, my child, what kind
of feeling is that of love, and God grant that thou mayest never know!
The dark night cometh, thou canst not close thine eyes: the bright
dawn breaketh, thou meetest it with tears, and the day is all
weary--O, so weary! There are many men in the fair world, but thou
see'st only one, in thy bower, in the street, in the house of God. A
stone lieth ever on thy breast, and thou canst not shake it off.'

"Then Selínova wept sincere tears. Her companion listened to her with
eager sympathy: the feelings just depicted were her own.

* * * * *

"There was a deep silence. It was broken by the young widow.

"'Nástenka, my life?' she began in a tone of such touching, such
lively interest, as called for her reluctant confidence.

"The daughter of Obrazétz glanced at her with eyes full of tears, and
shook her head.

"'Confide in me, as I have confided in thee,' continued Selínova,
taking her hand and pressing it to her bosom. 'I have lived longer in
the world than thou ... believe me, 'twill give thee ease ... 'tis
clear from every symptom, my love, what thou ailest.'

"And Anastasia, sobbing, exclaimed at last--'O, my love, my dearest
friend, Praskóvia Vladimírovna, take a sharp knife, open my white
breast, look what is the matter there!'