request. There seems no avoiding it. I get up and bend over her
long face, feeling as I do so just as I did in my childhood when I
was lifted up to kiss my grandmother in her coffin. Not content
with the kiss, Mashenka leaps up and impulsively embraces me. At
that instant, Mashenka's _maman_ appears in the doorway of the
arbour. . . . She makes a face as though in alarm, and saying "sh-sh"
to someone with her, vanishes like Mephistopheles through the
trapdoor.

Confused and enraged, I return to our villa. At home I find Varenka's
_maman_ embracing my _maman_ with tears in her eyes. And my _maman_
weeps and says:

"I always hoped for it!"

And then, if you please, Nadenka's _maman_ comes up to me, embraces
me, and says:

"May God bless you! . . . Mind you love her well. . . . Remember
the sacrifice she is making for your sake!"

And here I am at my wedding. At the moment I write these last words,
my best man is at my side, urging me to make haste. These people
have no idea of my character! I have a violent temper, I cannot
always answer for myself! Hang it all! God knows what will come of
it! To lead a violent, desperate man to the altar is as unwise as
to thrust one's hand into the cage of a ferocious tiger. We shall
see, we shall see!

* * * * *