enchanting the previous evening), I dressed myself in my best, slowly
and solemnly sallied out from my room, took a first-rate sledge, and
drove down to Ivan Semyonitch's. Varia was sitting alone in the
drawing-room reading Karamzin. On seeing me she softly laid the book
down on her knees, and with agitated curiosity looked into my face; I
had never been to see them in the morning before.... I sat down beside
her; my heart beat painfully. 'What are you reading?' I asked her at
last. 'Karamzin.' 'What, are you taking up Russian literature?...' She
suddenly cut me short. 'Tell me, haven't you come from Andrei?' That
name, that trembling, questioning voice, the half-joyful, half-timid
expression of her face, all these unmistakable signs of persistent
love, pierced to my heart like arrows. I resolved either to part from
Varia, or to receive from her herself the right to chase the hated name
of Andrei from her lips for ever. I do not remember what I said to her;
at first I must have expressed myself in rather confused fashion, as
for a long while she did not understand me; at last I could stand it no
longer, and almost shouted, 'I love you, I want to marry you.' 'You
love me?' said Varia in bewilderment. I fancied she meant to get up, to
go away, to refuse me. 'For God's sake,' I whispered breathlessly,
'don't answer me, don't say yes or no; think it over; to-morrow I will
come again for a final answer.... I have long loved you. I don't ask of
you love, I want to be your champion, your friend; don't answer me now,
don't answer.... Till to-morrow.' With these words I rushed out of the
room. In the passage Ivan Semyonitch met me, and not only showed no
surprise at my visit, but positively, with an agreeable smile, offered
me an apple. Such unexpected amiability so struck me that I was simply
dumb with amazement. 'Take the apple, it's a nice apple, really!'
persisted Ivan Semyonitch. Mechanically I took the apple at last, and
drove all the way home with it in my hand.