‘Stay, I speak as your friend. “Kill this Praskovia for me,” said Olga, “and I am yours,” or words to that effect. I bade her depart from me and not speak as a fool and a mad woman. I tell you this for your advantage, that you should not trust her too much.’
‘Does she love you, think you, Mazeppa? Would she have come to you thus but for the hope of persuading you to avenge her?’
Now, Mazeppa was one who forever believed that every woman must of necessity fall in love with him if he but raised his finger to encourage her, and it is certain that he was generally a successful lover. Even at this moment, when he was very desirous of my friendship and assistance, he could not resist the delight of hinting that he had made a conquest of Olga.
‘If she loves me it matters little, for I vow that she shall have no encouragement from me, my friend, now that I know you still desire her. I doubt not that you will win her, but, as I say, trust her not too much. Now, as to Vera Kurbatof, of whom you have lately seen more than I, have you spoken to her of me; is she inclined, think you, to my suit?’
‘I have scarcely spoken of you. She is aware that you would have befriended her. You have told me the truth as to Olga; shall I be equally frank as to Vera?’
Mazeppa looked astonished, then somewhat angry; but he bade me speak on.
‘I have been so good a friend to her and served her so well,’ said I, ‘that it would be wonderful if so gentle a maid were not grateful——’
‘Grateful, well,’ interrupted Mazeppa; ‘but dare not tell me there is more than gratitude. By heaven, Chelminsky, if, after all, you have fooled me and have sought to gain this maiden’s love——’
‘Oh, oh! I have sought nothing; if she is grateful and her gratitude has inclined her to bestow upon me a certain sweet friendly kindness which might, I admit, one day develop into a warmer regard, am I to blame? I speak as a friend. I have not wooed her back; take her and win her, Mazeppa, if thou wilt, and if she will also!’
‘A pretty confession to make indeed!’ cried Mazeppa, striding angrily about the room, too furious to perceive that his own admission had been the very same. ‘By the saints, I know not whether to trust thee or no! I know not whether thou art most fool or knave!’