She raised her eyes to the ceiling and seemed to sink into thought. The
tragic line, which I had once noticed about her lips, came out now still
more clearly; it seemed to spread across her whole face. It seemed as
though some relentless hand had drawn it immutably, had set a mark for
ever on this lost soul.

She was still silent.

'Susanna Ivanovna,' I said, to break that awful silence with anything;
'he will come back, I assure you!'

Susanna looked at me again.

'What do you say?' she enunciated with visible effort.

'He will come back, Susanna Ivanovna, Alexander will come back!'

'He will come back?' she repeated. 'But even if he did come back, I
cannot forgive him this humiliation, this lack of faith....'

She clutched at her head.

'My God! my God! what am I saying, and why am I here? What is it all?
What... what did I come to ask... and whom? Ah, I am going mad!...'

Her eyes came to a rest.

'You wanted to ask me to write to Alexander,' I made haste to remind
her.