The Unknown was there already. She was kneeling near the entrance, among a knot of other worshippers. Ordynov edged his way through the serried ranks of beggars, ragged old women, and sick and infirm persons who were waiting at the door for alms, and knelt down by the young girl’s side. Their clothes were actually touching, and he could hear her fluttering breath as it came wafted from her half-opened lips with each burning prayer. As before, her features were eloquent of nothing but piety; as before, her hot cheeks kept blushing under the tears which spent and dried themselves there, as though to cleanse away some terrible sin. All around was in deep shadow, save that at intervals the flame of a lamp, shaken by the draught which entered through a small open window, shot intermittent gleams over the face of the Unknown—over the face every feature of which was graven upon Ordynov’s memory, torturing his sight, and rending his heart with unspeakable pain. At length, unable any longer to bear the weight which oppressed his bosom, he burst into a storm of sobbing which brought with it relief as he bowed his aching head to the cold floor of the church. Nothing at that moment could he hear or feel save the beating of his heart and the sensation of sweet torment into which his pain had merged.

Was it solitude that had developed in him this excessive receptivity to impressions, that had left his senses so open to attack? Were the seeds of that restlessness sown during the long, long nights when he lay without sleeping, without light or air? Were all these disordered impulses and passionate emotions of the soul a necessary condition for the heart to expand and find an outlet? Or, rather, was it that the time had suddenly come for things to be as they were now, even as, on an oppressively hot day, the sky suddenly darkens, and discharges upon the thirsty land a warm rain which hangs in drops from the boughs, and refreshes the grass in the fields, and bends to earth the delicate crowns of the flowers; until at last, at the first gleam of sunshine, everything rises again, everything springs to meet the light, everything shoots heavenwards in its desire to celebrate the rebirth of nature in a sweet, abundant flood of joy and healthfulness? Ordynov could not account for his condition. Indeed, he could scarcely recognise himself. Though only dimly aware that the service was coming to an end, he rose when it did so, and followed the girl through the crowd of worshippers who were making for the entrance. More than once he encountered her quiet, wondering glance; more than once, when stopped by the surging of the crowd, he saw her turn in his direction. Every moment her agitation kept increasing. Then her cheeks suddenly flamed like the dawn as the old man appeared and took her by the hand; and for the third time Ordynov found himself raked by a disdainful, menacing glance. At it his heart grew heavy with a sort of sullen resentment. But soon the Unknown became lost to his sight in the darkness; whereupon, recovering himself with almost a superhuman effort, he rushed forward, and left the church. Even the fresh air scarcely helped to revive him. He drew his breath with difficulty, and felt as though he would suffocate, so slowly, yet loudly—loudly enough almost to break his chest—was his heart now beating. In vain he tried to pick up the trail of the mysterious couple, but no one resembling them was to be seen in street or alley. Yet an idea had sprung to birth in his mind; there had begun to germinate in his brain one of those bold, fool-hardy schemes which, however senseless they may be, almost invariably succeed on such occasions.