"You haven't yet fallen in love with anyone?" asked Prepolovenskaya with a laugh.
Everyone knew Volodin was looking for a wife with a dowry, offered himself to many and was always rejected. Prepolovenskaya's joke seemed to him out of place. In a manner resembling that of an injured sheep, he said in a trembling voice:
"If I fell in love, Sofya Efimovna, that wouldn't concern anyone except my own self and her. And in such an affair you wouldn't be considered."
But Prepolovenskaya refused to be suppressed.
"Suppose," she said, "that you fell in love with Varvara Dmitrievna, who would make jam tarts for Ardalyon Borisitch?"
Volodin again protruded his lips and lifted his eyebrows. He was at a loss what to say.
"Don't be faint-hearted, Pavel Vassilyevitch," Prepolovenskaya went on. "Why aren't you engaged? You're young and handsome."
"Perhaps Varvara Dmitrievna wouldn't have me," said Volodin, sniggering.
"Why shouldn't she? You're much too timid!"
"And perhaps I wouldn't have her," said Volodin, in desperation. "Perhaps I don't want to marry other people's cousins; perhaps I have a cousin of my own in my village."