The little room in which I found myself was quite dark, and it was some
moments before I saw Annouchka. She was seated near the window,
enveloped in a large shawl, her head turned away and almost concealed,
like a startled bird. I felt a deep pity for her. I approached; she
turned away her head still more.
"Anna Nicolaëvna!" I said to her. She turned quickly and tried to fasten
her look upon mine, but had not the strength. I took her hand; it was
like a dead person's, motionless and cold in mine.
"I would like," said she, attempting to smile, but her pale lips would
not allow of it; "I would like--no, impossible," she murmured. She was
silent; indeed, her voice grew fainter at every word.