You may easily imagine how I passed all that day and the following
morning. That night I slept rather badly. 'My God! my God!' I kept
thinking; 'if she refuses me! ... I shall die.... I shall die....' I
repeated wearily. 'Yes, she will certainly refuse me.... And why was I
in such a hurry!'... Wishing to turn my thoughts, I began to write a
letter to my father--a desperate, resolute letter. Speaking of myself,
I used the expression 'your son.' Bobov came in to see me. I began
weeping on his shoulder, which must have surprised poor Bobov not a
little.... I afterwards learned that he had come to me to borrow money
(his landlord had threatened to turn him out of the house); he had no
choice but to hook it, as the students say....

At last the great moment arrived. On going out of my room, I stood
still in the doorway. 'With what feelings,' thought I, 'shall I cross
this threshold again to-day?' ... My emotion at the sight of Ivan
Semyonitch's little house was so great that I got down, picked up a
handful of snow and pressed it to my face. 'Oh, heavens!' I thought,
'if I find Varia alone--I am lost!' My legs were giving way under me; I
could hardly get to the steps. Things were as I had hoped. I found
Varia in the parlour with Matrona Semyonovna. I made my bows awkwardly,
and sat down by the old lady. Varia's face was rather paler than
usual.... I fancied that she tried to avoid my eyes.... But what were
my feelings when Matrona Semyonovna suddenly got up and went into the
next room!... I began looking out of the window--I was trembling
inwardly like an autumn leaf. Varia did not speak.... At last I
mastered my timidity, went up to her, bent my head....

'What are you going to say to me?' I articulated in a breaking voice.

Varia turned away--the tears were glistening on her eyelashes.