I can't remember how this book finishes....

"Let us have lunch, Katya," I say.
"No, thank you," she answers coldly. Another minute passes in silence. "I don't like Harkov," I say; "it's so grey here -- such a grey town."
"Yes, perhaps ... It's ugly. I am here not for long, passing through. I am going on today."
"Where?"
"To the Crimea ... that is, to the Caucasus."
"Oh! For long?"
"I don't know."
Katya gets up, and, with a cold smile, holds out her hand without looking at me.
I want to ask her, "Then, you won't be at my funeral?" but she does not look at me; her hand is cold and, as it were, strange. I escort her to the door in silence. She goes out, walks down the long corridor without looking back; she knows that I am looking after her, and most likely she will look back at the turn.
No, she did not look back. I've seen her black dress for the last time: her steps have died away. Farewell, my treasure!