GAGIN came out to meet me.
“Have you seen my sister?” he shouted to me while I was still some distance off.
“Why, isn’t she at home?” I asked.
“No.”
“She hasn’t come back?”
“No. I was in fault,” Gagin went on. “I couldn’t restrain myself. Contrary to our agreement, I went to the chapel; she was not there; didn’t she come, then?”
“She hasn’t been at the chapel?”
“And you haven’t seen her?”
I was obliged to admit I had seen her.
“Where?”
“At Frau Luise’s. I parted from her an hour ago,” I added. “I felt sure she had come home.”
“We will wait a little,” said Gagin.
We went into the house and sat down near each other. We were silent. We both felt very uncomfortable. We were continually looking round, staring at the door, listening. At last Gagin got up.
“Oh, this is beyond anything!” he cried. “My heart’s in my mouth. She’ll be the death of me, by God! . . . Let’s go and look for her.”
We went out. It was quite dark by now, outside.
“What did you talk about to her?” Gagin asked me, as he pulled his hat over his eyes.
“I only saw her for five minutes,” I answered. “I talked to her as we agreed.”
“Do you know what?” he replied, “it’s better for us to separate. In that way we are more likely to come across her before long. In any case come back here within an hour.”