young lady.' I liked her soft smile; I liked her simple-hearted,
ringing little voice, her light and mirthful laugh, her attentive
though by no means 'profound' glances. The child promised nothing; but
you could not help admiring her, as you admire the sudden, soft cry of
the oriole at evening, in the lofty, dark birch-wood. I must confess
that at the present time I should pass by such a creature with some
indifference; I've no taste now for solitary evening strolls, and
orioles; but in those days ...

I've no doubt, gentlemen, that, like all well-educated persons, you
have been in love at least once in the course of your life, and have
learnt from your own experience how love springs up and develops in the
human heart, and therefore I'm not going to enlarge too much on what
took place with me at that time. Kolosov and I used to go pretty often
to Ivan Semyonitch's; and though those damned cards often drove me to
utter despair, still, in the mere proximity of the woman one loves (I
had fallen in love with Varia) there is a sort of strange, sweet,
tormenting joy. I made no effort to suppress this growing feeling;
besides, by the time I had at last brought myself to call the emotion
by its true name, it was already too strong.... I cherished my love in
silence, and jealously and shyly concealed it. I myself enjoyed this
agonising ferment of silent passion. My sufferings did not rob me of my
sleep, nor of my appetite; but for whole days together I was conscious
of that peculiar physical sensation in my breast which is a symptom of
the presence of love. I am incapable of depicting the conflict of
various sensations which took place within me when, for example,
Kolosov came in from the garden with Varia, and her whole face was
aglow with ecstatic devotion, exhaustion from excess of bliss.... She
so completely lived in his life, was so completely taken up with him,
that unconsciously she adopted his ways, looked as he looked, laughed