Page:The Novels of Ivan Turgenev (volume V).djvu/166

Rh Irina ceased speaking, there were tears in her voice. She sighed, and timidly, with a kind of furtive, searching look, gazed at Litvinov, held out her hand to him. . . . Litvinov slowly took the hand and faintly pressed it. 'Let us be friends,' whispered Irina. 'Friends,' repeated Litvinov dreamily. 'Yes, friends. . . or if that is too much to ask, then let us at least be friendly. . . . Let us be simply as though nothing had happened.' 'As though nothing had happened,. . .' repeated Litvinov again. 'You said just now, Irina Pavlovna, that I was unwilling to forget the old days. . . . But what if I can't forget them?'

A blissful smile flashed over Irina's face, and at once disappeared, to be replaced by a harassed, almost scared expression. 'Be like me, Grigory Mihalitch, remember only what was good in them; and most of all, give me your word. . . . Your word of honour. . . .' 'Well?' 'Not to avoid me. . . not to hurt me for nothing. You promise? tell me!' 'Yes.' 'And you will dismiss all evil thoughts of me from your mind.' 'Yes. . . but as for understanding you — I give it up.'