'But now?' queried Elena.

'But now . . . now I must go away. Goodbye.'

If, at that instant, Insarov had lifted his eyes to Elena, he would
have seen that her face grew brighter and brighter as he frowned and
looked gloomy; but he kept his eyes obstinately fixed on the ground.

'Well, good-bye, Dmitri Nikanorovitch,' she began. 'But at least,
since we have met, give me your hand now.'

Insarov was stretching out his hand. 'No, I can't even do that,' he
said, and turned away again.

'You can't?'

'No, I can't. Good-bye.' And he moved away to the entrance of the
chapel.

'Wait a little longer,' said Elena. 'You seem afraid of me. But I am
braver than you,' she added, a faint tremor passing suddenly over her
whole body. 'I can tell you . . . shall I? ... how it was you found me
here? Do you know where I was going?'

Insarov looked in bewilderment at Elena,

'I was going to you.'

'To me?'