Elena laughed. 'What a queer idea! I remember when I was little ... a
maid of ours ran away. She was caught, and forgiven, and lived with us
a long while . . . but still every one used to call her Tatyana, the
runaway. I never thought then that I too might perhaps be a runaway
like her.'

'Elena, aren't you ashamed?'

'Why? Of course it's better to go with a passport. But if we can't----'

'We will settle all that later, later, wait a little,' said Insarov.
'Let me look about; let me think a little. We will talk over
everything together thoroughly. I too have money.'

Elena pushed back the hair that fell over on his forehead.

'O Dmitri! how glorious it will be for us two to set off together!'

'Yes,' said Insarov, 'but there, when we get there----'

'Well?' put in Elena, 'and won't it be glorious to die together too?
but no, why should we die? We will live, we are young. How old are
you? Twenty-six?'

'Yes, twenty-six.'

'And I am twenty. There is plenty of time before us. Ah, you tried to
run away from me? You did not want a Russian's love, you Bulgarian!
Let me see you trying to escape from me now! What would have become