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Updated: June 23, 2025
He felt that his face at that moment looked stupid, guilty, blank, that it was strained and affected. . . . Vera must have been able to read the truth on his countenance, for she suddenly became grave, turned pale, and bent her head. "You must forgive me," Ognev muttered, not able to endure the silence. "I respect you so much that . . . it pains me. . . ."
"It may seem strange to you. . . . You will be surprised, but I don't care. . . ." Ognev shrugged his shoulders once more and prepared himself to listen. "You see . . ." Verotchka began, bowing her head and fingering a ball on the fringe of her shawl. "You see . . . this is what I wanted to tell you. . . . You'll think it strange . . . and silly, but I . . . can't bear it any longer."
From there those who liked could mimic the forest echo, and one could see the road vanish in the dark woodland track. "Well, here is the bridge!" said Ognev. "Here you must turn back." Vera stopped and drew a breath. "Let us sit down," she said, sitting down on one of the posts. "People generally sit down when they say good-bye before starting on a journey."
And now, old fellow, let us embrace one another and kiss for the last time!" Ognev, limp with emotion, kissed the old man once more and began going down the steps. On the last step he looked round and asked: "Shall we meet again some day?" "God knows!" said the old man. "Most likely not!" "Yes, that's true!
And this, too, seemed to Ognev affected and not to be taken seriously. When Vera had finished he still did not know what to say, but it was impossible to be silent, and he muttered: "Vera Gavrilovna, I am very grateful to you, though I feel I've done nothing to deserve such . . . feeling . . . on your part.
I shall have to see her back," thought Ognev, but looking at her profile he gave a friendly smile and said: "One doesn't want to go away in such lovely weather. It's quite a romantic evening, with the moon, the stillness, and all the etceteras. Do you know, Vera Gavrilovna, here I have lived twenty-nine years in the world and never had a romance.
"I asked you just now. . . ." "Excuse me, I did not hear what you were saying." Only then Ognev noticed a change in Vera.
Vera turned sharply and walked rapidly homewards. Ognev followed her. "No, don't!" said Vera, with a wave of her hand. "Don't come; I can go alone." "Oh, yes . . . I must see you home anyway." Whatever Ognev said, it all to the last word struck him as loathsome and flat. The feeling of guilt grew greater at every step.
I suppose I've never had time, or perhaps it was I have never met women who. . . . In fact, I have very few acquaintances and never go anywhere." For some three hundred paces the young people walked on in silence. Ognev kept glancing at Verotchka's bare head and shawl, and days of spring and summer rose to his mind one after another.
Urging himself on with his memories, forcing himself to picture Vera, he strode rapidly towards the garden. There was no mist by then along the road or in the garden, and the bright moon looked down from the sky as though it had just been washed; only the eastern sky was dark and misty. . . . Ognev remembers his cautious steps, the dark windows, the heavy scent of heliotrope and mignonette.
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