if she would not so come, or if to hope that she would ever do so
was an unthinkable absurdity--why, then there was nothing else for
me to want. Even now I do not know what I am wanting. I feel like
a man who has lost his way. I yearn but to be in her presence, and
within the circle of her light and splendour--to be there now, and
forever, and for the whole of my life. More I do not know. How
can I ever bring myself to leave her?
On reaching the third storey of the hotel I experienced a shock.
I was just passing the General's suite when something caused me
to look round. Out of a door about twenty paces away there was
coming Polina! She hesitated for a moment on seeing me, and
then beckoned me to her.
"Polina Alexandrovna!"
"Hush! Not so loud."
"Something startled me just now," I whispered, "and I looked
round, and saw you. Some electrical influence seems to emanate
from your form."
"Take this letter," she went on with a frown (probably she had
not even heard my words, she was so preoccupied), "and hand it
personally to Mr. Astley. Go as quickly as ever you can, please.
No answer will be required. He himself--" She did not finish her
sentence.
"To Mr. Astley?" I asked, in some astonishment.
But she had vanished again.
Aha! So the two were carrying on a correspondence! However, I
set off to search for Astley--first at his hotel, and then at
the Casino, where I went the round of the salons in vain. At
length, vexed, and almost in despair, I was on my way home
when I ran across him among a troop of English ladies and
gentlemen who had been out for a ride. Beckoning to him to
stop, I handed him the letter. We had barely time even to look
at one another, but I suspected that it was of set purpose
that he restarted his horse so quickly.
Was jealousy, then, gnawing at me? At all events, I felt
exceedingly depressed, despite the fact that I had no desire
to ascertain what the correspondence was about. To think that
HE should be her confidant! "My friend, mine own familiar
friend!" passed through my mind. Yet WAS there any love in
the matter? "Of course not," reason whispered to me. But
reason goes for little on such occasions. I felt that the
matter must be cleared up, for it was becoming unpleasantly
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