'Swear you will send for me at once whenever it may be, day or night,
write a note straight to me--I care for nothing now. Do you hear? you
promise you will do that?'

'I promise before God'

'Swear it.'

'I swear.'

She suddenly snatched his hand, and before he had time to pull it
away, she had bent and pressed her lips to it.

'Elena Nikolaevna, what are you----' he stammered.

'No--no--I won't have it----' Insarov muttered indistinctly, and
sighed painfully.

Elena went up to the screen, her handkerchief pressed between her
teeth, and bent a long, long look on the sick man. Silent tears rolled
down her cheeks.

'Elena Nikolaevna,' Bersenyev said to her, 'he might come to himself
and recognise you; there's no knowing if that wouldn't do harm.
Besides, from hour to hour I expect the doctor.'

Elena took her hat from the sofa, put it on and stood still. Her eyes
strayed mournfully over the room. She seemed to be remembering. ...

'I cannot go away,' she whispered at last.