She really did feel afraid, and said this in an almost tearful voice.

He stepped back from the window and looked at an icon of the Saviour
in His crown of thorns. 'Lord, help me! Lord, help me!' he exclaimed,
crossing himself and bowing low. Then he went to the door, and opening
it into the tiny porch, felt for the hook that fastened the outer door
and began to lift it. He heard steps outside. She was coming from the
window to the door. 'Ah!' she suddenly exclaimed, and he understood
that she had stepped into the puddle that the dripping from the roof had
formed at the threshold. His hands trembled, and he could not raise the
hook of the tightly closed door.

'Oh, what are you doing? Let me in! I am all wet. I am frozen! You are
thinking about saving your soul and are letting me freeze to death . . .'

He jerked the door towards him, raised the hook, and without considering
what he was doing, pushed it open with such force that it struck her.

'Oh--PARDON!' he suddenly exclaimed, reverting completely to his old
manner with ladies.

She smiled on hearing that PARDON. 'He is not quite so terrible, after
all,' she thought. 'It's all right. It is you who must pardon me,' she
said, stepping past him. 'I should never have ventured, but such an
extraordinary circumstance . . .'

'If you please!' he uttered, and stood aside to let her pass him. A
strong smell of fine scent, which he had long not encountered, struck
him. She went through the little porch into the cell where he lived. He
closed the outer door without fastening the hook, and stepped in after