In the little room into which I stepped, it was rather dark, and I did
not at once see Acia. Wrapped in a big shawl, she was sitting on a
chair by the window, turning away from me and almost hiding her head
like a frightened bird. She was breathing quickly, and trembling all
over. I felt unutterably sorry for her. I went up to her. She averted
her head still more.…
‘Anna Nikolaevna,’ I said.
She suddenly drew herself up, tried to look at me, and could not. I
took her hand, it was cold, and lay like a dead thing in mine.
‘I wished’--Acia began, trying to smile, but unable to control her pale
lips; ‘I wanted--No, I can’t,’ she said, and ceased. Her voice broke at
every word.