'This evening. I must go with him to-morrow to the factory to see Solomin.'
'Yes . . . yes.. . . That's a splendid man, now, Markelov. He's a real friend.'
'Like me?'
Marianna looked Nezhdanov straight in the face.
'No . . . not like you.'
'How? . . .'
She turned suddenly away.
'Ah! don't you understand what you have become to me, and what I am feeling at this moment? . . .'
Nezhdanov's heart beat violently; involuntarily he looked down. This girl, who loved him─him, a poor homeless devil─who believed in him, who was ready to follow him, to go with him towards the same aim─this exquisite girl─Marianna, at that instant, was to Nezhdanov the incarnation of everything good and true on earth─the incarnation of all the love of mother, sister, wife, that he had known nothing of—the incarnation of fatherland, happiness, struggle, freedom!
He raised his head, and saw her eyes again bent upon him. . .
Oh, how that clear, noble glance sank into his soul!
'And so,' he began in an unsteady voice, 'I
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