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Rudin by Garnett, Constance, 1861-1946, Turgenev, Ivan Sergeevich, 1818-1883



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Rudin stood, his arms folded on his breast, and listened with strained attention. His heart beat violently, and involuntarily he held his breath. At last he caught the sound of light, hurrying footsteps, and Natalya came into the arbour.

Rudin rushed up to her, and took her hands. They were cold as ice.

'Natalya Alexyevna!' he began, in an agitated whisper, 'I wanted to see you. . . . I could not wait till to-morrow. I must tell you what I did not suspect--what I did not realise even this morning. I love you!'

Natalya's hands trembled feebly in his.

'I love you!' he repeated, 'and how could I have deceived myself so long? How was it I did not guess long ago that I love you? And you? Natalya Alexyevna, tell me!'

Natalya could scarcely draw her breath.

'You see I have come here,' she uttered, at last

'No, say that you love me!'

'I think--yes,' she whispered.

Rudin pressed her hands still more warmly, and tried to draw her to him.

Natalya looked quickly round.

'Let me go--I am frightened. . . . I think some one is listening to us. . . . For God's sake, be on your guard. Volintsev suspects.'

'Never mind him! You saw I did not even answer him to-day. . . . Ah, Natalya Alexyevna, how happy I am! Nothing shall sever us now!'

Natalya looked into his eyes.

'Let me go,' she whispered; 'it's time.'

'One instant,' began Rudin.

'No, let me go, let me go.'

'You seem afraid of me.'

'No, but it's time.'

'Repeat, then, at least once more.' . . .

'You say you are happy?' asked Natalya.

'I? No man in the world is happier than I am! Can you doubt it?'

Natalya lifted up her head. Very beautiful was her pale, noble, young face, transformed by passion, in the mysterious shadows of the arbour, in the faint light reflected from the evening sky.

'I tell you then,' she said, 'I will be yours.'

'Oh, my God!' cried Rudin.

But Natalya made her escape, and was gone.

Rudin stood still a little while, then walked slowly out of the arbour. The moon threw a light on his face; there was a smile on his lips.

'I am happy,' he uttered in a half whisper. 'Yes, I am happy,' he repeated, as though he wanted to convince himself.

He straightened his tall figure, shook back his locks, and walked quickly into the garden, with a happy gesture of his hands.

Meanwhile the bushes of the lilac arbour moved apart, and Pandalevsky appeared. He looked around warily, shook his head, pursed up his mouth, and said, significantly, 'So that's how it is. That must be brought to Darya Mihailovna's knowledge.' And he vanished.

VIII

On his return home, Volintsev was so gloomy and dejected, he gave his sister such listless answers, and so quickly locked himself up in his room, that she decided to send a messenger to Lezhnyov. She always had recourse to him in times of difficulty. Lezhnyov sent her word that he would come in the next day.