..." And so I went on with a number of amiable platitudes,
struggling to comfort him somewhere, and knowing that I was not even
beginning to touch the trouble of his soul.
He drew very close to me, his fingers gripping my sleeve--"I'll tell
you, Ivan Andreievitch--but you mustn't tell anybody else. I'm afraid.
Yes, I am. Afraid of myself, afraid of this town, afraid of Alexei,
although that must seem strange to you. Things are very bad with me,
Ivan Andreievitch. Very bad, indeed. Oh! I have been disappointed! yes,
I have. Not that I expected anything else. But now it has come at last,
the blow that I have always feared has fallen--a very heavy blow. My own
fault, perhaps, I don't know. But I'm afraid of myself. I don't know
what I may do. I have such strange dreams--Why has Alexei come to stay
with us?"
"I don't know," I said.
Then, thank God, we reached the church. It was only as we went up the
steps that I realised that he had never once mentioned Vera.
VIII
And yet with all our worries thick upon us it was quite impossible to
resist the sweetness and charm and mystery of that service.
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