“Ivan Ivanovich,” said Tatiana Markovna reproachfully, “do you think Vera and I are capable of such a thing? Are we to avail ourselves of your past affection and your generosity merely to still malicious gossip, to stifle talk for which there is a basis of truth. Neither you nor Vera would find happiness in that way.”
“There is no question of generosity, Tatiana Markovna. If a forest stands in one’s way, it must be hewn down; bold men see no barrier in the sea, and hew their way through the rock itself. Here there is no obstacle of forest, sea, or rock. I am bridging the precipice, and my feet will not tremble when I cross the bridge. Give me Vera Vassilievna. No devil should disturb my happiness or her peace of mind, if she lived to be a hundred. She will be my Tsaritsa, and in the peace that reigns in my forest will forget all that now oppresses her. You don’t yet understand me!”
“I do,” whispered Tatiana Markovna tearfully, “but the decision does not lie with me.”
He passed his hands across his eyes and through his thick hair, then seized her hands.
“Forgive me, I forgot the important point. It is not mountain, forest or sea, but an insurmountable obstacle that confronts me—Vera Vassilievna is not willing. She looks forward to a happier future than I can offer her. You sent for me to let me know of the gossip there is going about, in the view that it must be painful, didn’t you? Do not let it disturb either yourself or Vera Vassilievna, but take her away, so that no word of it penetrates to her ears. In the meantime I will spread in the town the account we have discussed. That man,” he could not bring Mark’s name over his lips, “leaves the town to-morrow or the day after, and all will be forgotten. As for me, since it is decided that Vera Vassilievna is not to be my wife, it does not matter whether I die or live.”
Tatiana Markovna, pale and trembling, interrupted him.
“She will be your wife,” she said, “when she has learnt to forget. I understand for the first time how you love Vera.”
“Do not lure me on with false hopes, for I am not a boy. Who can give me security that Vera Vassilievna will ever....”
“I give you that security.”
His eyes shone with gratitude as he took her hand. Tatiana Markovna felt that she had gone too far, and had promised more than she could perform. She withdrew her hand, and said soothingly: “She is still very unhappy, and would not understand at present. First of all she must be left alone.”