"
Nikolay turned back to the table; the mother walked out of the room
for a minute. On her return Nikolay looked at her kindly and began to
speak softly and lovingly. His reminiscences stroked her like a caress.
"And I, you see, was like Sashenka. I loved a girl: a marvelous
being, a wonder, a--guiding star; she was gentle and bright for me.
I met her about twenty years ago, and from that time on I loved her.
And I love her now, too, to speak the truth. I love her all so--
with my whole soul--gratefully--forever!"
Standing by his side the mother saw his eyes lighted from within by
a clear, warm light. His hands folded over the back of the chair,
and his head leaning on them, he looked into the distance; his whole
body, lean and slender, but powerful, seemed to strive upward, like
the stalk of a plant toward the sun.
"Why didn't you marry? You should have!"
"Oh, she's been married five years!"
"And before that--what was the matter? Didn't she love you?"
He thought a while, and answered:
"Yes, apparently she loved me; I'm certain she did. But, you see,
it was always this way: I was in prison, she was free; I was free,
she was in prison or in exile.
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