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And yet, a fine impress, a tender aroma of death, was wafted from the bushes, from the grass, from the trees. Dilectorsky waxed tender; gave his feelings a free rein, was moved over himself, and began to weep. Verka wept a bit with him, too. "To-day I will kill myself!" said Dilectorsky finally. "All is over! ..." "My own, don't! ... My precious, don't! ..."
The legs of Dilectorsky gave in from horror; but the reason of a hypocrite, coward and blackguard kept vigil: he did still have spirit sufficient to stretch away at his side the skin over his ribs, and to shoot through it. And when he was falling, frantically crying out from pain, from fright, and from the thunder of the shot, the last convulsion was running through the body of Verka.
For a long time already she had been in love with a semi-military man, who called himself a civic clerk in the military department. His name was Dilectorsky. In their relations Verka was the adoring party; while he, like an important idol, condescendingly received the worship and the proffered gifts.
"It's impossible," answered Dilectorsky sombrely. "The cursed money! ... Which is dearer honour or life?!" "My dear..." "Don't speak, don't speak, Annetta!" This is decided!" "Oh, if only I could help you!" exclaimed Verka woefully. "Why, I'd give my life away ... Every drop of blood! ..." "What is life?" Dilectorsky shook his head with an actor's despondence.
"You and I have both enjoyed ourselves, Annetta ... We have drained the cup to the bottom and now, to use an expression of Pushkin's, must shatter the goblet!" said Dilectorsky. "You do not repent, oh, my dear? ..." "No, no! ..." "Are you ready?" "Yes!" whispered she and smiled. "Then turn away to the wall and shut your eyes!" "No, no, my dearest, I don't want it so! ... I don't want it!
In the beginning of September he finally confessed to her, that he had embezzled official money, big money, something around three thousand; and that after five days he would be checked up, and that he, Dilectorsky, was threatened with disgrace, the court, and finally, hard labour ... Here the civic clerk of the military department burst into sobs, clasping his head, and exclaimed: "My poor mother! ... What will become of her?
"Farewell, Annetta! ... Farewell! ..." The girl desperately began to shake her head: "I don't want it! ... I don't want it! ... I don't want it! ... Take me! ... I'll go with you too! ..." Late in the evening Dilectorsky took a room in an expensive hotel.
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