he asked, with a constrained smile.

“That’s certainly true,” said Dounia, looking directly and sternly at her brother. “Mother was crossing herself with terror as she came up the stairs.”

His face worked, as though in convulsion.

“Ach, what are you saying, Dounia! Don’t be angry, please, Rodya... Why did you say that, Dounia?” Pulcheria Alexandrovna began, overwhelmed — ”You see, coming here, I was dreaming all the way, in the train, how we should meet, how we should talk over everything together... And I was so happy, I did not notice the journey! But what am I saying? I am happy now... You should not, Dounia... I am happy now — simply in seeing you, Rodya...”