“To whom? To a foreigner?”
“Yes.”
“Did you get acquainted with her lately? In Frankfort?”
“Yes.”
“And what is she? May I know?”
“Certainly. She is a confectioner’s daughter.”
Maria Nikolaevna opened her eyes wide and lifted her eyebrows.
“Why, this is delightful,” she commented in a drawling voice; “this is exquisite! I imagined that young men like you were not to be met with anywhere in these days. A confectioner’s daughter!”
“I see that surprises you,” observed Sanin with some dignity; “but in the first place, I have none of these prejudices …”
“In the first place, it doesn’t surprise me in the least,” Maria Nikolaevna interrupted; “I have no prejudices either. I’m the daughter of a peasant myself. There! what can you say to that? What does surprise and delight me is to have come across a man who’s not afraid to love. You do love her, I suppose?”