PART VI
7. CHAPTER VII
(continued)
"Rodya, Rodya, what is the matter? How can you ask me such a question?
Why, who will tell me anything about you? Besides, I shouldn't believe
anyone, I should refuse to listen."
"I've come to assure you that I've always loved you and I am glad that
we are alone, even glad Dounia is out," he went on with the same
impulse. "I have come to tell you that though you will be unhappy, you
must believe that your son loves you now more than himself, and that
all you thought about me, that I was cruel and didn't care about you,
was all a mistake. I shall never cease to love you. . . . Well, that's
enough: I thought I must do this and begin with this. . . ."
Pulcheria Alexandrovna embraced him in silence, pressing him to her
bosom and weeping gently.
"I don't know what is wrong with you, Rodya," she said at last. "I've
been thinking all this time that we were simply boring you and now I
see that there is a great sorrow in store for you, and that's why you
are miserable. I've foreseen it a long time, Rodya. Forgive me for
speaking about it. I keep thinking about it and lie awake at nights.
Your sister lay talking in her sleep all last night, talking of
nothing but you. I caught something, but I couldn't make it out. I
felt all the morning as though I were going to be hanged, waiting for
something, expecting something, and now it has come! Rodya, Rodya,
where are you going? You are going away somewhere?"
"Yes."
"That's what I thought! I can come with you, you know, if you need me.
And Dounia, too; she loves you, she loves you dearly--and Sofya
Semyonovna may come with us if you like. You see, I am glad to look
upon her as a daughter even . . . Dmitri Prokofitch will help us to go
together. But . . . where . . . are you going?"
"Good-bye, mother."
"What, to-day?" she cried, as though losing him for ever.
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