Page:The Novels of Ivan Turgenev (volume X).djvu/47

Rh She still went on along the walk with rather slower steps. . . . Aratov, as before, walked after her, and as before saw only the old cape and the hat, also not a very new one. His vanity suffered at the idea that she must now be thinking: 'I had only to make a sign — and he rushed at once!' Aratov was silent. . . he expected her to answer him; but she did not utter a word.

'I am ready to listen to you,' he began again, 'and shall be very glad if I can be of use to you in any way. . . though I am, I confess, surprised. . . considering the retired life I lead. . . .' At these last words of his, Clara suddenly turned to him, and he beheld such a terrified, such a deeply-wounded face, with such large bright tears in the eyes, such a pained expression about the parted lips, and this face was so lovely, that he involuntarily faltered, and himself felt something akin to terror and pity and softening. 'Ah, why. . . why are you like that?' she said, with an irresistibly genuine and truthful force, and how movingly her voice rang out! 'Could my turning to you be offensive to you? . . . is it possible you have understood nothing? . . . Ah, yes! you have understood nothing, you did not understand what I said to you,