She stopped, and looked at him in silence. Then she sank exhausted upon his breast, and her voice ended in a passionate sob, while her bosom heaved convulsively. Yet her face bore the brightness of the evening star.

“My darling!” whispered Ordynov, sight and breath almost failing him. “My darling!” he whispered again, scarcely knowing what to say, so fearful was he lest his happiness should disappear in smoke. He believed himself to be the sport of an illusion. Everything was dancing before his eyes.

“My queen,” he said at length, “I cannot understand you. I only know what you have just told me. My ideas are all confused, and my heart is very sore.”

Again his voice failed him. Katerina pressed closer to his side, and as she did so he rose and fell, in an abandonment of self-surrender, upon his knees. His breast was swelling with sobs, and his voice (which seemed to come straight from his heart) was quivering like the string of a violin, in an ecstasy of mysterious rapture and mysterious happiness.

“Who are you, my beloved?” he cried, restraining his sobs only with a great effort of will. “Where do you come from, my darling? From what heaven have you flown into mine? Surely it must be from some heaven of dreams, for I cannot believe that you are a real being. Do not interrupt me; let me speak, and tell you all—all—all. I have so long wanted to do so! . . . Who are you, my dearest—who are you? How have you discovered the road to my heart? How long have you been my ‘sister’? Tell me all your history, and what your life has been, and the name of your native place, and who was your first lover, and all your joys and sorrows. Have you always lived in a warm country, under a bright blue sky? Upon whom was your first affection spent? Who was your lover before I myself became so? To whom did your soul first turn? Have you a mother? Did she caress you when you were a little girl, or did your eyes, like mine, open upon a desolate hearth? Have you always lived as you are doing now? What have your hopes for the future been? Of what golden vistas have you dreamed? How many of your hopes have come true, and how many have been disappointed? Tell me all, all, all. For whom did your youthful heart first ache? Upon whom did you first bestow it? What must I give you in order to win that heart for myself? What must I give you in order to possess it completely? Tell me all, my little sweetheart, the very light of my eyes, my dearest sister! Tell me how I may reach you and touch your affections. . . .”

Again his voice broke, and he hung his head in despair. When again he raised his eyes a sudden terror froze his blood, and the hair stiffened on his head.