“That is not the letter,” he said, returning it.
“Do you see another?” she asked drily.
He replied that he had not, fearing that she might accuse him of spying, and at her request began to read:
“Ma belle chamante divine Vera Vassilievna! I am enraptured and fall on my knees before your dear, noble, handsome cousin; he has avenged me, and I am triumphant and weep for joy. He was great. Tell him that he is ever my knight, that I am his devoted slave. Ah, how I admire him, I would say—the word is on the tip of my tongue—but I dare not. Yet why should I not? Yes, I love him, I adore him. Everyone must adore him....”
Here Raisky attempted to return the letter, but Vera bade him continue, as there was a request for him. He skipped a few lines and proceeded:—
“Implore your cousin (he adores you. Do not deny it, for I have seen his passionate glances. What would I not give to be in your place).
“Implore your cousin, darling Vera Vassilievna, to paint my portrait. I don’t really care about the portrait, but to be with an artist to admire him, to speak to him, to breathe the same air with him! Ma pauvre tête, je deviens folle. Je compte sur vous, ma belle et bonne amie, et j’attends la réponse.”
“What answer shall I give her?” asked Vera, as Raisky laid the letter on the table.
He was thinking of the other letter, wondering why she had hidden it, and did not hear her question.
“May I write that you agree?”