She did not speak; her fingers trembled in my hair; I listen; she is weeping. I began to soothe her, to assure 1 her. … I really don`t know what I did say to her. `You will wake up ! the girl,` I say to her; `Aleksandra Andreyevna, I thank you …’believe me … calm yourself.` `Enough, enough!` she persisted; `never mind all of them; let them wake, then; let them come in it does not matter; I am dying, you see. … And what do you fear? why are you afraid? Lift up your head. … Or, perhaps, you don`t love me; perhaps I am wrong. … In that case, forgive me.`
Aleksandra Andreyevna
`Aleksandra Andreyevna, what are you saying! … I love you, Aleksandra Andreyevna.` She t looked straight into my eyes, and opened her arms wide. `Then take me in your arms.` I tell you frankly, I don`t know how it was I did not go mad that night. I feel that my patient is killing herself; I see that she I; is not fully herself; I understand, too, that if she did not consider herself on the point of death, she would never have thought of me; and, in-deed, say what you will, it`s hard to die at twenty without having known love; this was what was torturing her; this was why, in despair, she caught at me do you understand now?
But she held me in her arms, and would not let me go. `Have pity on me, Aleksandra Andreyevna, and have pity on yourself,` I say. `Why,` she says; `what is there to think of? You know I must die. …` This she repeated incessantly. … `If I knew that I should return to life, and be a proper young lady again, I should be ashamed … of course, ashamed … but why now?` ‘But who has said you will die?` `Oh, no, leave off! you will not deceive me; you don`t know how to he look at your face. …` `You shall live, Aleksandra Andreyevna; I will cure you; we will ask your mother`s blessing … we will be united we will be happy.`
`No, no, I have your word; I must die … you have promised me … you have told me. …` It was cruel for me cruel for many reasons. And see what trifling things can do sometimes; it seems nothing at all, but it`s painful. It occurred to her to ask me, what is my name; not my surname, but my first name. I must needs be so unlucky as to be called Trifon. Yes, indeed; Trifon Ivanich. Every one in the house called me doctor. However, there`s no help for it. I say, `Trifon, madam.` She frowned, Hhook her head, and muttered something in French ah, something unpleasant, of course! and then she laughed disagreeably too.
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