It is the cold.
Oh, won't you go ?" Then she pleaded, finding him obdurate: "If you won't go for me, then go for your father." He raised his head with a sudden laughter, and, raising it, the wind beat into his face fiercely and the particles of snow whipped his skin.
"Dear Pierre, then for your mother ?" He bowed his head.
"Not for all the people who love you and wait for you now by some warm fire--some cozy fire, all yellow and bright ?" He took her hands and with them covered his eyes.

"Listen: I have no father; I have no mother." "Pierre! Oh, Pierre, I'm sorry!" "And for the rest of 'em, I've killed a man.

The whole world hates me; the whole world's hunting me." The small hands tugged away.

He dared not raise his bowed head for fear of her eyes.

And then the hands came back to him and touched his face.
She was saying tremulously: "Then he deserved to be killed.