'Yes. But one thing more. Don't speak about me, or say who I am. I have
revealed myself only to you. No one knows where I have gone to. It must
be so.'

'Oh, but I have told my daughter.'

'Well, ask her not to mention it.'

And Sergius took off his boots, lay down, and at once fell asleep after
a sleepless night and a walk of nearly thirty miles.

When Praskovya Mikhaylovna returned, Sergius was sitting in the little
room waiting for her. He did not come out for dinner, but had some soup
and gruel which Lukerya brought him.

'How is it that you have come back earlier than you said?' asked
Sergius. 'Can I speak to you now?'

'How is it that I have the happiness to receive such a guest? I have
missed one of my lessons. That can wait . . . I had always been planning
to go to see you. I wrote to you, and now this good fortune has come.'

'Pashenka, please listen to what I am going to tell you as to a
confession made to God at my last hour. Pashenka, I am not a holy man,
I am not even as good as a simple ordinary man; I am a loathsome,
vile, and proud sinner who has gone astray, and who, if not worse than
everyone else, is at least worse than most very bad people.'

Pashenka looked at him at first with staring eyes. But she believed what