“What do you think, Veroshka?” asked Tatiana Markovna, uncertainly. “He is willing to be betrothed and to remain here. Perhaps if he is prepared to live like other people, if he loves you, and if you think you could be happy—”
“He calls betrothal a comedy, and yet suggests it. He thinks that only that is needed to make me happy. Grandmother, you know my frame of mind; so why do you ask me?”
“You came to me to ask me what you should decide,” began Tatiana Markovna with some hesitation, as she did not yet understand why Vera had read her the letters. She was incensed at Mark’s audacity, and feared that Vera herself might be seized with a return of her passion. For these reasons she concealed her anxiety.
“It was not for that that I came to you, Grandmother. You know that my mind has long been made up. I will have no more to do with him. And if I am to breathe freely again, and to hope to be able to live once more, it is under the condition that I hear nothing of him, that I can forget everything. He reminds me of what has happened, calls me down there, seeks to allure me with talk of happiness, will marry me.... Gracious Heaven! Understand, Grandmother,” she went on, as Tatiana Markovna’s anxiety could no longer be concealed, “that if by a miracle he now became the man I hoped he would be, if he now were to believe all that I believe, and loved me as I desired to love him, even if all this happened I would not turn aside from my path at his call.” No song could have been sweeter to the ears of Tatiana Markovna. “I should not be happy with him,” Vera continued. “I could never forget what he had been, or believe in the new Mark. I have endured more than enough to kill any passion. There is nothing left in my heart but a cold emptiness, and but for you, Grandmother, I should despair.”
She wept convulsively, her head pressed against her aunt’s shoulder.
“Do not recall your sufferings, Veroshka, and do not distress yourself unnecessarily. We agreed never to speak of it again.”
“But for the letters I should not have spoken, for I need peace. Take me away, Grandmother, hide me, or I shall die. He calls me—to that place.”
Tatiana Markovna rose and drew Vera into the armchair, while she drew herself to her full height.
“If that is so,” she said, “if he thinks he can continue to annoy you, he will have to reckon with me. I will shield and protect you. Console yourself, child, you will hear no more of him.”
“What will you do?” she asked in amazement, springing from her chair.