She went out of the room and closed the door very quietly after her. My thoughts became agitated. And so I was in the house of the Commandant; Maria Ivanovna had been to see me. I wanted to ask Savelitch a few questions, but the old man shook his head and stopped his ears. Filled with vexation, I closed my eyes and soon fell asleep.
When I awoke I called Savelitch, but instead of him I saw Maria Ivanovna standing before me; she spoke to me in her angelic voice. I cannot describe the delightful sensation which took possession of me at that moment. I seized her hand, pressed it to my lips, and watered it with my tears. Maria did not withdraw it.... and suddenly her lips touched my cheek, and I felt a hot fresh kiss imprinted upon it. A fiery thrill passed through me.
“Dear, good Maria Ivanovna,” I said to her, “be my wife, consent to make me happy.”
She recovered herself.
“For Heaven’s sake, calm yourself,” said she, withdrawing her hand from my grasp; “you are not yet out of danger: your wound may re-open. Take care of yourself, if only for my sake.”
With these words she left the room, leaving me in a transport of bliss. Happiness saved me. “She will be mine! She loves me!” This thought filled my whole being.
From that moment I grew hourly better. The regimental barber attended to the dressing of my wound, for there was no other doctor in the fortress, and, thank heaven, he did not assume any airs of professional wisdom. Youth and nature accelerated my recovery. The whole family of the Commandant attended upon me. Maria Ivanovna scarcely ever left my side. As will naturally be supposed, I seized the first favourable opportunity for renewing my interrupted declaration of love, and this time Maria Ivanovna listened to me more patiently.
Without the least affectation she confessed that she was favourably disposed towards me, and said that her parents, without doubt, would be pleased at her good fortune.
“But think well,” she added; “will there not be opposition on the part of your relations?”
This set me thinking. I was not at all uneasy on the score of my mother’s affection; but, knowing my father’s disposition and way of thinking, I felt that my love would not move him very much, and that he would look upon it as a mere outcome of youthful folly.