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- Федор Достоевский
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She
walked
past
the
orchestra
,
to
where
an
open
carriage
was
waiting
,
near
the
road
.
The
prince
had
not
seen
her
for
more
than
three
months
.
All
these
days
since
his
arrival
from
Petersburg
he
had
intended
to
pay
her
a
visit
,
but
some
mysterious
presentiment
had
restrained
him
.
He
could
not
picture
to
himself
what
impression
this
meeting
with
her
would
make
upon
him
,
though
he
had
often
tried
to
imagine
it
,
with
fear
and
trembling
.
One
fact
was
quite
certain
,
and
that
was
that
the
meeting
would
be
painful
.
Several
times
during
the
last
six
months
he
had
recalled
the
effect
which
the
first
sight
of
this
face
had
had
upon
him
,
when
he
only
saw
its
portrait
.
He
recollected
well
that
even
the
portrait
face
had
left
but
too
painful
an
impression
.
That
month
in
the
provinces
,
when
he
had
seen
this
woman
nearly
every
day
,
had
affected
him
so
deeply
that
he
could
not
now
look
back
upon
it
calmly
.
In
the
very
look
of
this
woman
there
was
something
which
tortured
him
.
In
conversation
with
Rogojin
he
had
attributed
this
sensation
to
pity
--
immeasurable
pity
,
and
this
was
the
truth
.
The
sight
of
the
portrait
face
alone
had
filled
his
heart
full
of
the
agony
of
real
sympathy
;
and
this
feeling
of
sympathy
,
nay
,
of
actual
suffering
,
for
her
,
had
never
left
his
heart
since
that
hour
,
and
was
still
in
full
force
.
Oh
yes
,
and
more
powerful
than
ever
!
But
the
prince
was
not
satisfied
with
what
he
had
said
to
Rogojin
.
Only
at
this
moment
,
when
she
suddenly
made
her
appearance
before
him
,
did
he
realize
to
the
full
the
exact
emotion
which
she
called
up
in
him
,
and
which
he
had
not
described
correctly
to
Rogojin
.
And
,
indeed
,
there
were
no
words
in
which
he
could
have
expressed
his
horror
,
yes
,
horror
,
for
he
was
now
fully
convinced
from
his
own
private
knowledge
of
her
,
that
the
woman
was
mad
.
If
,
loving
a
woman
above
everything
in
the
world
,
or
at
least
having
a
foretaste
of
the
possibility
of
such
love
for
her
,
one
were
suddenly
to
behold
her
on
a
chain
,
behind
bars
and
under
the
lash
of
a
keeper
,
one
would
feel
something
like
what
the
poor
prince
now
felt
.
"
What
's
the
matter
?
"
asked
Aglaya
,
in
a
whisper
,
giving
his
sleeve
a
little
tug
.
He
turned
his
head
towards
her
and
glanced
at
her
black
and
(
for
some
reason
)
flashing
eyes
,
tried
to
smile
,
and
then
,
apparently
forgetting
her
in
an
instant
,
turned
to
the
right
once
more
,
and
continued
to
watch
the
startling
apparition
before
him
.
