NASTYA: At night he came into the garden. I had been waiting for him quite awhile. I trembled with fear and grief--he trembled, too . . . he was a white as chalk--and he had the pistol in his hand . . . and he says to me in a dreadful voice: "My precious darling ... My one and only love," he says, "my parents," he says, "refuse to give their consent to our wedding--and threaten to disown me because of my love for you. Therefore," he says, "I must take my life." And his pistol was huge--and loaded with ten bullets . . . "Farewell," he says, "beloved comrade! I have made up my mind for good and all . . . I can't live without you . . ." and I replied: "My unforgettable friend--my Raoul--joy of my life! My bright moon! I, too, I can't live without you--because I love you madly, so madly--and I shall keep on loving you as long as my heart beats in my bosom. But--" I say--"don't take your young life! Think how necessary it is to your dear parents whose only happiness you are. Leave me! Better that I should perish from longing for you, my life! I alone! I--ah--as such, such! Better that I should die--it doesn't matter . . . I am of no use to the world--I have nothing, nothing at all--" [Covers her face with her hand and weeps--then jumping up.] Shut up, you bastards! Ah--you lousy mongrels! So help me God--it happened! It happened! He was a student, a Frenchman--Gastotcha was his name--he had a little black beard--and patent leathers--may God strike me dead if I'm lying! And he loved me so--my God, how he loved me!