“And what do you think, Maria Ivanovna—do you please him or not?”
Maria Ivanovna blushed and grew confused.
“I think,” said she, “I believe that I please him.”
“And why do you think so?”
“Because he once proposed to me.”
“Proposed! He proposed to you? And when?”
“Last year; two months before your arrival.”
“And you refused?”
“As you see. Alexei Ivanitch is, to be sure, a sensible man and of good family, and possesses property; but when I think that I should have to kiss him under the crown[3] in the presence of everybody—no! not for anything in the world!”
Maria Ivanovna’s words opened my eyes and explained a great many things. I now understood why Shvabrin calumniated her so remorselessly. He had probably observed our mutual inclination towards each other, and endeavoured to produce a coolness between us. The words which had been the cause of our quarrel appeared to me still more abominable, when, instead of a coarse and indecent jest, I was compelled to look upon them in the light of a deliberate calumny. The wish to chastise the insolent slanderer became still stronger within me, and I waited impatiently for a favourable opportunity for putting it into execution.