"You know what I called you for?" asked Nekhludoff.
"Yes, he told me. But now I am decided. I will ask permission to go with Vladimir Ivanovitch." She said this quickly, as if she had made up her mind before what to say.
"How with Vladimir Ivanovitch?" asked Nekhludoff. But she interrupted him.
"But if he wants me to live with him?" Here she stopped in fear, and added, "I mean to stay with him. I could expect nothing better, and perhaps I may be useful to him and others. What difference does it make to me?"
One of the two things had happened—either she had fallen in love with Simonson and did not wish his sacrifice, which weighed so heavily on him, or she was still in love with Nekhludoff and renounced him for his own good, burning all bridges behind her, and throwing her fortunes in the same scale with those of Simonson. Nekhludoff understood it, and felt ashamed.
"If you are in love with him," he said.
"I never knew such people, you know. It is impossible not to love them. And Vladimir is entirely unlike any person I have ever known."
"Yes, certainly," said Nekhludoff. "He is an excellent man, and I think——"
Here she interrupted him, as if she were afraid that he would speak too much, or she would not say everything.
"You will forgive me for doing that which you did not wish. You, too, must love."