Nekhludoff released her, and for a moment felt not only awkward and ashamed, but seemed odious to himself.  He should have believed in himself, but he failed to understand that this awkwardness and shame were the noblest feelings of his soul begging for recognition, and, on the contrary, it seemed to him that it was his foolishness that was speaking within him, that he ought to have done as everybody does in a similar case.

He overtook her again, again embraced her and kissed her on the neck.  This kiss was entirely unlike the other two kisses.  The first was given unconsciously, behind the lilac bush; the second, in the morning in church.  The last one was terrible, and she felt it.

“But what are you doing?” she exclaimed in such a voice, as if he had irrecoverably destroyed something infinitely precious, and ran away from him.

He went to the dining-room.  His aunts in holiday attire, the doctor and a neighbor were taking lunch standing.  Everything was as usual, but a storm raged in Nekhludoff’s soul.  He did not understand what was said to him, his answers were inappropriate, and he was thinking only of Katiousha, recalling the sensation of the last kiss he gave her when he overtook her in the corridor.  He could think of nothing else.  When she entered the room, without looking at her, he felt her presence with all his being, and had to make an effort not to look at her.

After lunch he went immediately to his room, and in great agitation walked to and fro, listening to the sounds in the house and waiting to hear her steps.  The animal man that dwelled in him not only raised his head, but crushed under foot the spiritual man that he was when he first arrived at the manor, and was even this very morning in church, and that terrible animal man now held sway in his soul.  Although Nekhludoff was watching an opportunity to meet Katiousha that day, he did not succeed in seeing her face to face even once.  She was probably avoiding him.  But in the evening it happened that she had to enter a room adjoining his.  The physician was to remain over night, and Katiousha had to make the bed for him.  Hearing her steps, Nekhludoff, stepping on tip-toe and holding his breath, as though preparing to commit a crime, followed her into the room.

Thrusting both her hands into a white pillow-case, and taking hold of two corners of the pillow, she turned her head and looked at him smiling, but it was not the old, cheerful, happy smile, but a frightened, piteous smile.  The smile seemed to tell him that what he was doing was wrong.  For a moment he stood still.  There was still the possibility of a struggle.  Though weak, the voice of his true love to her was still heard; it spoke of her, of her feelings, of her life.  The other voice reminded him of his enjoyment, his happiness.  And this second voice stifled the first.  He approached her with determination.  And the terrible, irresistible animal feeling mastered him.