And he was not so much surprised at Signora Roselli’s
unexpected state of mind, as at the way her daughter
behaved to him. It was not that she avoided him
... on the contrary she sat continually a little distance
from him, listened to what he said, and looked at him;
but she absolutely declined to get into conversation
with him, and directly he began talking to her, she
softly rose from her place, and went out for some
instants. Then she came in again, and again seated
herself in some corner, and sat without stirring, seeming
meditative and perplexed ... perplexed above all.
Frau Lenore herself noticed at last, that she was
not as usual, and asked her twice what was the matter.
‘Nothing,’ answered Gemma; ‘you
know I am sometimes like this.’
‘That is true,’ her mother assented.
So passed all that long day, neither gaily nor drearily—neither
cheerfully nor sadly. Had Gemma been different—Sanin
... who knows?... might not perhaps have been able
to resist the temptation for a little display—or
he might simply have succumbed to melancholy at the
possibility of a separation for ever.... But as
he did not once succeed in getting a word with Gemma,
he was obliged to confine himself to striking minor
chords on the piano for a quarter of an hour before
evening coffee.
Emil came home late, and to avoid questions about
Herr Klueber, beat a hasty retreat. The time
came for Sanin too to retire.
He began saying good-bye to Gemma. He recollected
for some reason Lensky’s parting from Olga in
Oniegin. He pressed her hand warmly, and
tried to get a look at her face, but she turned a little
away and released her fingers.
It was bright starlight when he came out on the steps.
What multitudes of stars, big and little, yellow,
red, blue and white were scattered over the sky!
They seemed all flashing, swarming, twinkling unceasingly.
There was no moon in the sky, but without it every
object could be clearly discerned in the half-clear,
shadowless twilight. Sanin walked down the street
to the end ... He did not want to go home at
once; he felt a desire to wander about a little in
the fresh air. He turned back and had hardly
got on a level with the house, where was the Rosellis’
shop, when one of the windows looking out on the street,
suddenly creaked and opened; in its square of blackness—there
was no light in the room—appeared a woman’s
figure, and he heard his name—’Monsieur
Dimitri!’
He rushed at once up to the window ... Gemma!
She was leaning with her elbows on the window-sill,
bending forward.
‘Monsieur Dimitri,’ she began in a cautious
voice, ’I have been wanting all day long to
give you something ... but I could not make up my
mind to; and just now, seeing you, quite unexpectedly
again, I thought that it seems it is fated’
...
Gemma was forced to stop at this word. She could
not go on; something extraordinary happened at that
instant.
