Before me stood Tyeglev with his hands hanging at his sides and with
no cap on his head. His face was pale; but his eyes looked animated
and bigger than usual. His breathing came in deep, prolonged gasps
through his parted lips.
"Thank God!" I cried in an outburst of joy, and I gripped him by both
hands. "Thank God! I was beginning to despair of finding you. Aren't
you ashamed of frightening me like this? Upon my word, Ilya
Stepanitch!"
"What do you want of me?" repeated Tyeglev.
"I want ... I want you, in the first place, to come back home with me.
And secondly, I want, I insist, I insist as a friend, that you explain
to me at once the meaning of your actions--and of this letter to the
colonel. Can something unexpected have happened to you in Petersburg?"
"I found in Petersburg exactly what I expected," answered Tyeglev,
without moving from the spot.
"That is ... you mean to say ... your friend ... this Masha...."
"She has taken her life," Tyeglev answered hurriedly and as it were
angrily. "She was buried the day before yesterday. She did not even
leave a note for me. She poisoned herself."
Tyeglev hurriedly uttered these terrible words and still stood
motionless as a stone.
I clasped my hands. "Is it possible? How dreadful! Your presentiment
has come true.... That is awful!"
I stopped in confusion. Slowly and with a sort of triumph Tyeglev
folded his arms.
"But why are we standing here?" I began. "Let us go home."
"Let us," said Tyeglev. "But how can we find the way in this fog?"
"There is a light in our windows, and we will make for it. Come
along."
"You go ahead," answered Tyeglev. "I will follow you." We set off. We
walked for five minutes and our beacon light still did not appear; at
last it gleamed before us in two red points. Tyeglev stepped evenly
behind me. I was desperately anxious to get home as quickly as
possible and to learn from him all the details of his unhappy
expedition to Petersburg. Before we reached the hut, impressed by what
he had said, I confessed to him in an access of remorse and a sort of
superstitious fear, that the mysterious knocking of the previous
evening had been my doing ... and what a tragic turn my jest had
taken!
Tyeglev confined himself to observing that I had nothing to do with
it--that something else had guided my hand--and this only showed how
little I knew him. His voice, strangely calm and even, sounded close
to my ear. "But you do not know me," he added. "I saw you smile
yesterday when I spoke of the strength of my will. You will come to
know me--and you will remember my words."
The first hut of the village sprang out of the fog before us like some
dark monster ... then the second, our hut, emerged--and my setter dog
began barking, probably scenting me.
I knocked at the window. "Semyon!" I shouted to Tyeglev's servant,
"hey, Semyon! Make haste and open the gate for us."
The gate creaked and opened; Semyon crossed the threshold.
"Ilya Stepanitch, come in," I said, and I looked round. But no Ilya
Stepanitch was with me. Tyeglev had vanished as though he had sunk
into the earth.