MÍTYA. If this were true, then what sort of a man should I be after acting as I have? Could I declare with words what my heart does not feel! I think such a thing would be dishonorable! I may not be worth your regard, but I'm not the man to deceive you.
LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. It is impossible to believe you men; all men in the world are deceivers.
MÍTYA. Let them be deceivers, but I am not.
LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. How can one know! Perhaps you also are deceiving me and want to play a joke on me!
MÍTYA. It would be easier for me to die in this place than to hear such words from you! [Turns away.
LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. No, Mítya, I didn't mean it. I know that you love me. I only wanted to tease you. [MÍTYA is silent] Mítya dear! Mítya! Why are you silent? Are you angry with me? I tell you I was only joking! Mítya! Yes! Now, then, say something. [Takes his hand.
MÍTYA. Oh, Lyubóv Gordéyevna, I'm not in a joking humor! I'm not that sort of man.
LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Don't be angry.
MÍTYA. If you love me, then stop these jokes! They are not in place. Oh, it's all the same to me now! [Embraces her] Maybe they can take you from me by force, but I won't give you up of my free will. I love you more than my life!
LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. [Returning his embrace] Mítya dear, what shall we do now?