Then Nikolai enters and brings the money. Soon after, Kasin leaves. Nikolai politely accompanies him to the door, which he locks behind him. In what he now has to discuss with his father he does not wish to be disturbed.
"So that was it--that," he says, slowly, as he goes up to Lensky.
"I do not understand what you mean," stammers Lensky, uneasily, but his eyes fall before the accusing glance of his son.
For a short moment deep silence rules. The blood has rushed to the virtuoso's face. He breathes heavily; wishes to say something, but does not bring it out.
"You have guessed!" cries out Nikolai. "But it was only a trifle! It was six years ago--she was a child at that time, a child intoxicated with music, irresponsible from enthusiasm. One must not be too severe! Ah!" with a hoarse groan. "Still, it is all the same, and you were right, and I was a fool!" He hurries out. Then a heavy hand seizes him by the shoulder.
"It is not as you think," says Lensky, slowly, raising his bowed head. He is now deathly pale.
"So it was only mere gossip on Kasin's part?" says Nikolai. "You have never seen her, or, at least, she never pleased you?"
Lensky shakes his massive head. "Yes, she pleased me," said he, hoarsely, "very much; in that Kasin spoke the truth. She pleased me indescribably. There was something unusual about her, something warmer, more natural than the others, and such a peculiar way of looking at one, as you know. I thought--but I was mistaken." He pauses.
"One evening I found her alone," murmurs Lensky, scarce audibly. "Njikitjin had arranged it so. Oh! the lowness, the commonness of such a woman, who will flatter one at any price! I lost my head. She did not at first understand me--I thought it was affectation. Must you know all?"
"Well"--Lensky gasps the words more than speaks them--"I was like a wild animal. She cried for help. I heard some one come, fortunately for her. And I was as frightened as a thief, and left. Now, have you heard enough?" he fairly screams, and stamps on the floor.
Lensky is silent. Nikolai's face is ashy, as that of a man whose heart has ceased beating with horror.
"Now I know why she shrank from me," says he, dully, without looking at his father. Then he leaves him.