“Good-night, Maryánka. Tomorrow I will come to see your father and tell him. Don’t you say anything.”
“Why should I!” answered Maryánka.
Both the girls started running. Olénin went on by himself thinking over all that had happened. He had spent the whole evening alone with her in a corner by the oven. Ústenka had not left the hut for a single moment, but had romped about with the other girls and with Belétski all the time. Olénin had talked in whispers to Maryánka.
“Will you marry me?” he had asked.
“You’d deceive me and not have me,” she replied cheerfully and calmly.
“But do you love me? Tell me for God’s sake!”
“Why shouldn’t I love you? You don’t squint,” answered Maryánka, laughing and with her hard hands squeezing his....
“What whi-ite, whi-i-ite, soft hands you’ve got—so like clotted cream,” she said.
“I am in earnest. Tell me, will you marry me?”
“Why not, if father gives me to you?”