"You are disenchanted," said Bazarov.
"No," she replied with a shiver. "Rather, I am dissatisfied. Oh that I could form a strong attachment of some kind!"
"To fall in love might save you," remarked Bazarov. "But you are incapable of that. That is where your misfortune lies."
Madame dropped her eyes upon the sleeve of her mantilla.
"I am incapable of falling in love?" she murmured.
"Not altogether. Moreover, I did wrong to call it a misfortune: for the person most to be pitied is the person who meets with that experience."
"What experience do you mean?"
"The experience of falling in love."
"How come you to know that?"
"By hearsay," he replied irritably, while to himself he added: "You are a mere coquette whom sheer idleness is leading to weary and madden me." And his heart swelled within him.