Had Nekhludoff at that time been conscious of his love for
Katusha, and especially if he had been told that he could on no
account join his life with that of a girl in her position, it
might have easily happened that, with his usual straight-
forwardness, he would have come to the conclusion that there
could be no possible reason for him not to marry any girl
whatever, as long as he loved her. But his aunts did not
mention their fears to him; and, when he left, he was still
unconscious of his love for Katusha. He was sure that what he
felt for Katusha was only one of the manifestations of the joy of
life that filled his whole being, and that this sweet, merry
little girl shared this joy with him. Yet, when he was going
away, and Katusha stood with his aunts in the porch, and looked
after him, her dark, slightly-squinting eyes filled with tears,
he felt, after all, that he was leaving something beautiful,
precious, something which would never reoccur. And he grew very
sad.
"Good-bye, Katusha," he said, looking across Sophia Ivanovna's
cap as he was getting into the trap. "Thank you for everything."
"Good-bye, Dmitri Ivanovitch," she said, with her pleasant,
tender voice, keeping back the tears that filled her eyes--and
ran away into the hall, where she could cry in peace.