A short silence followed.

'Elena?' said Insarov.

'Well, my dearest?'

'Tell me, did it never occur to you that this illness was sent us as a
punishment?'

Elena looked seriously at him.

'That idea did come into my head, Dmitri. But I thought: what am I to
be punished for? What duty have I transgressed, against whom have I
sinned? Perhaps my conscience is not like other people's, but it was
silent; or perhaps I am guilty towards you? I hinder you, I stop you.'

'You don't stop me, Elena; we will go together.'

'Yes, Dmitri, let us go together; I will follow you. . . . That is my
duty. I love you. ... I know no other duty.'

'O Elena!' said Insarov, 'what chains every word of yours fastens
on me!'

'Why talk of chains?' she interposed. 'We are free people, you and
I. Yes,' she went on, looking musingly on the floor, while with one
hand she still stroked his hair, 'I experienced much lately of which
I had never had any idea! If any one had told me beforehand that I, a
young lady, well brought up, should go out from home alone on all
sorts of made-up excuses, and to go where? to a young man's