"What is it?" she said, stopping.

"Nothing. I only----"

With some effort he overcame his shyness, and remembering how people
generally act in such a case, he put his arm about Katiousha's waist.

She stopped and looked in his eyes.

"Don't, Ivanovich, don't," she said, blushing until her eyes filled
with tears. Then with her rough, strong hands she removed his arm.

Nekhludoff released her, and for a moment felt not only awkward and
ashamed, but seemed odious to himself. He should have believed in
himself, but he failed to understand that this awkwardness and shame
were the noblest feelings of his soul begging for recognition, and, on
the contrary, it seemed to him that it was his foolishness that was
speaking within him, that he ought to have done as everybody does in a
similar case.

He overtook her again, again embraced her and kissed her on the neck.
This kiss was entirely unlike the other two kisses. The first was
given unconsciously, behind the lilac bush; the second, in the morning
in church. The last one was terrible, and she felt it.

"But what are you doing?" she exclaimed in such a voice, as if he had
irrecoverably destroyed something infinitely precious, and ran away
from him.

He went to the dining-room. His aunts in holiday attire, the doctor