"Fast? No, my dear. Akh! how long the days seem! Sometimes it seemed to me as though a whole month had dragged along while these three days were passing. Good by, my dearest,[1] we must not talk long; aren't we shrewd? yes? Good by. Akh! only sixty-six remain for me to sit in the cellar.—Hm! hm! it is not so noticeable, of course; when one is at work, time flies. And then I am not in a cellar. Hm! hm! da!"
Saturday.—"Akh! my dearest,[2] only sixty-four days are left. Akh! how gloomy it is here! These two days have seemed longer than those three days. Akh! how gloomy! How miserable it is here; if you only realized it, my dear.[3] Good by, my dear, my sweetheart,[4] till Tuesday; and these three days will seem longer than the last five. Good by, my dear.—Hm! hm! da! hm! her eyes look badly. She does not like to weep. This is not well. Hm! da!"
Tuesday.—"Akh! my dearest,[2] I gave up counting the days. They don't pass,—they don't pass at all."
"Viérotchka, my little friend, I have a favor to ask of you. We must have a nice little talk together. You are anxiously longing for freedom. Well, give yourself a little freedom; we must have a talk together."
"Yes, we must, moï mílenki, we must."
"Then I will ask you how this suits you. What time will it be most convenient for you to-morrow; it does not make the least difference what time, only tell me; be again on that bench of the Konno-Gvardiesky Boulevard. Will you?"
"I will be there, moï mílenki, without fail. At eleven o'clock; is that right?"
"Very well; thank you, little friend."
"Good by, my dearest.[1] Akh! how glad I am that you have thought about it! How was it that I, myself, foolish little thing that I am, did not think about it? Good by. We will talk; at all events, I shall breathe the fresh air. Good by, mílenki. At eleven o'clock, without fail."
Friday.—"Viérotchka, where are you going?"
"I, mámenka?"
