“Come, don’t take on so, funny one! I’ll manage for you to-morrow if you cannot find a place.” Her quiet, persuasive whispering sounded in my ears as if it came through a dream….

There we lay till dawn….

And when the dawn came, we crept from behind the skiff and went into the town…. Then we took friendly leave of each other and never met again, although for half a year I searched in every hole and corner for that kind Natasha, with whom I spent the autumn night just described.

If she be already dead—and well for her if it were so—may she rest in peace! And if she be alive… still I say “Peace to her soul!” And may the consciousness of her fall never enter her soul… for that would be a superfluous and fruitless suffering if life is to be lived….