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Yet even now the question occurred to me: "What has made Dimitri who throughout has tried to understand love differently to other young fellows, and has always had before his eyes the gentle, loving Sophia Ivanovna suddenly fall so deeply in love with the incomprehensible Lubov Sergievna, and declare that in his aunt he can only find good QUALITIES? Verily it is a true saying that 'a prophet hath no honour in his own country. One of two things: either every man has in him more of bad than of good, or every man is more receptive to bad than to good.
Masha looked intently into his face. 'Well, enough of him, she said. 'Don't let us talk of him. It's a lesson to me for the future. It's I that am to blame. She drooped her head, and ceased speaking in confusion. Kister was in a sort of terror. 'It can't be! he kept repeating to himself. 'Marya Sergievna! he began at last.
'Be so good as to go. I'm ashamed of you. 'Oh, to be sure, delicatesse!... Ah, Marya Sergievna, I don't know French! growled Avdey, as he put on his cap. 'Till we meet again, Fyodor Fedoritch! He bowed and walked out. Kister paced several times up and down the room. His face burned, his breast heaved violently.
Or perhaps it is that I don't set the right way to work to make him reveal himself?... And she turned swiftly round, and glanced so inquiringly, so searchingly at him, that he could not fail to understand her glance, and could not keep silence any longer.... 'Marya Sergievna, he pronounced falteringly; 'I... I've... I ought to tell you something.... 'Speak, Masha responded rapidly.
Masha was in great good humour and chatted merrily. Kister responded willingly, though he awaited explanations with impatience.... Taniusha walked behind at a respectful distance, only from time to time stealing a sly glance at her young lady. 'You're not angry with me, Fyodor Fedoritch? queried Masha. 'With you, Marya Sergievna? Why, whatever for?
'I believe, Marya Sergievna, he pronounced with dignity, 'you yourself suggested... 'Yes... yes... rejoined Masha hurriedly. 'You wished to see me, you wanted... Her voice died away. Lutchkov did not speak. Masha timidly raised her eyes.
All that evening she spoke only in disjointed fragments of this kind fragments which had no connection either with the point or with one another; yet I had such faith in Dimitri, and he so often kept looking from her to me with an expression which mutely asked me, "Now, what do you think of that?" that, though I entirely failed to persuade myself that in Lubov Sergievna there was anything to speak of, I could not bear to express the thought, even to myself.
Such practical love it was love for her nephew, for her niece, for her sister, for Lubov Sergievna, and even for myself, because I loved Dimitri that shone in the eyes, as well as in the every word and movement, of Sophia Ivanovna. Only long afterwards did I learn to value her at her true worth.
Only Lubov Sergievna, who, I believe, really believed me to be a great egoist, atheist, and cynic, had no love for me, but frequently disputed what I said, flew into tempers, and left me petrified with her disjointed, irrelevant utterances.
'Surely you've long known that I love you, Marya Sergievna? Three weeks after this interview, Kister was sitting alone in his room, writing the following letter to his mother: Dearest Mother! I make haste to share my great happiness with you; I am going to get married.
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