Page 674 - the-idiot

‘Never mind!’ she laughed, ‘but why didn’t you come ear-
lier? Perhaps you were expected!’
‘I thought’ he stammered, making for the door.
‘Au revoir! I shall amuse them all with this story tomor-
row!’
He walked along the road towards his own house. His
heart was beating, his thoughts were confused, everything
around seemed to be part of a dream.
And suddenly, just as twice already he had awaked from
sleep with the same vision, that very apparition now seemed
to rise up before him. The woman appeared to step out from
the park, and stand in the path in front of him, as though
she had been waiting for him there.
He shuddered and stopped; she seized his hand and
pressed it frenziedly.
No, this was no apparition!
There she stood at last, face to face with him, for the first
time since their parting.
She said something, but he looked silently back at her.
His heart ached with anguish. Oh! never would he banish
the recollection of this meeting with her, and he never re-
membered it but with the same pain and agony of mind.
She went on her knees before him—there in the open
road—like a madwoman. He retreated a step, but she caught
his hand and kissed it, and, just as in his dream, the tears
were sparkling on her long, beautiful lashes.
‘Get up!’ he said, in a frightened whisper, raising her. ‘Get
up at once!’
‘Are you happy—are you happy?’ she asked. ‘Say this one