Page 834 - the-idiot

since feared that she might take some such step as this. But
why did she wish to see Nastasia?
He shivered all over as he lay; he was in high fever again.
No! he did not account her a child. Certain of her looks,
certain of her words, of late, had filled him with apprehen-
sion. At times it had struck him that she was putting too
great a restraint upon herself, and he remembered that he
had been alarmed to observe this. He had tried, all these
days, to drive away the heavy thoughts that oppressed him;
but what was the hidden mystery of that soul? The question
had long tormented him, although he implicitly trusted that
soul. And now it was all to be cleared up. It was a dreadful
thought. And ‘that woman’ again! Why did he always feel
as though ‘that woman’ were fated to appear at each critical
moment of his life, and tear the thread of his destiny like
a bit of rotten string? That he always HAD felt this he was
ready to swear, although he was half delirious at the mo-
ment. If he had tried to forget her, all this time, it was simply
because he was afraid of her. Did he love the woman or hate
her? This question he did not once ask himself today; his
heart was quite pure. He knew whom he loved. He was not
so much afraid of this meeting, nor of its strangeness, nor
of any reasons there might be for it, unknown to himself; he
was afraid of the woman herself, Nastasia Philipovna. He
remembered, some days afterwards, how during all those
fevered hours he had seen but HER eyes, HER look, had
heard HER voice, strange words of hers; he remembered
that this was so, although he could not recollect the details
of his thoughts.