'Don't worry yourself about that!' Emil whispered gaily; he ran off,
and as he ran nodded once more to him.

Sanin went back home, and without lighting a candle, flung himself
on the sofa, put his hands behind his head, and abandoned himself to
those sensations of newly conscious love, which it is no good even to
describe. One who has felt them knows their languor and sweetness; to
one who has felt them not, one could never make them known.

The door opened--Emil's head appeared.

'I have brought it,' he said in a whisper: 'here it is--the answer!'

He showed and waved above his head a folded sheet of paper.

Sanin leaped up from the sofa and snatched it out of Emil's hand.
Passion was working too powerfully within him: he had no thought of
reserve now, nor of the observance of a suitable demeanour--even
before this boy, her brother. He would have been scrupulous, he would
have controlled himself--if he could!

He went to the window, and by the light of a street lamp which stood
just opposite the house, he read the following lines:--

I beg you, I beseech you--_don't come to see us, don't show yourself
all day to-morrow_. It's necessary, absolutely necessary for me,
and then everything shall be settled. I know you will not say no,
because ...