This very night--just think, this very night--
I planned to come and beg of you the alms
I dared not ask for in my poverty.
I thought me poor then. How stript am I now!
There's not a ragged mendicant one meets
Along the Nevski Prospekt but has leave
To tell his love, and I have not that right!
Pauline Pavlovna, why do you stand there
Stark as a statue, with no word to say?


SHE.

Because this thing has frozen up my heart.
I think that there is something killed in me,
A dream that would have mocked all other bliss.
What shall I say? What would you have me say?


HE.

If it be possible, the word of words!


SHE, VERY SLOWLY.

Well, then--I love you. I may tell you so
This once, . . . and then forever hold my peace.
We cannot stay here longer unobserved.
No--do not touch me! but stand further off,