Resurrection

When he returned from church Nekhludoff broke the fast with his

aunts and took a glass of spirits and some wine, having got into

that habit while with his regiment, and when he reached his room

fell asleep at once, dressed as he was. He was awakened by a

knock at the door. He knew it was her knock, and got up, rubbing

his eyes and stretching himself.

"Katusha, is it you? Come in," said he.

She opened the door.

"Dinner is ready," she said. She still had on the same white

dress, but not the bow in her hair. She looked at him with a

smile, as if she had communicated some very good news to him.

"I am coming," he answered, as he rose, taking his comb to

arrange his hair.

She stood still for a minute, and he, noticing it, threw down his

comb and made a step towards her, but at that very moment she

turned suddenly and went with quick light steps along the strip

of carpet in the middle of the passage.

"Dear me, what a fool I am," thought Nekhludoff. "Why did I not

stop her?" What he wanted her for he did not know himself, but he

felt that when she came into his room something should have been

done, something that is generally done on such occasions, and

that he had left it undone.

"Katusha, wait," he said.

"What do you want?" she said, stopping.

"Nothing, only--" and, with an effort, remembering how men in his

position generally behave, he put his arm round her waist.

She stood still and looked into his eyes.

"Don't, Dmitri Ivanovitch, you must not," she said, blushing to

tears and pushing away his arm with her strong hard hand.

Nekhludoff let her go, and for a moment he felt not only confused

and ashamed but disgusted with himself. He should now have

believed himself, and then he would have known that this

confusion and shame were caused by the best feelings of his soul

demanding to be set free; but he thought it was only his

stupidity and that he ought to behave as every one else did. He

caught her up and kissed her on the neck.

This kiss was very different from that first thoughtless kiss

behind the lilac bush, and very different to the kiss this

morning in the churchyard. This was a dreadful kiss, and she felt

it.

"Oh, what are you doing?" she cried, in a tone as if he had

irreparably broken something of priceless value, and ran quickly

away.

He came into the dining-room. His aunts, elegantly dressed, their

family doctor, and a neighbour were already there. Everything

seemed so very ordinary, but in Nekhludoff a storm was raging. He

understood nothing of what was being said and gave wrong answers,

thinking only of Katusha. The sound of her steps in the passage

brought back the thrill of that last kiss and he could think of

nothing else. When she came into the room he, without looking

round, felt her presence with his whole being and had to force

himself not to look at her.