The girl ventured to reply, "I had been told that I was neither to visit nor to write to my mother."
"But you might have let me know through your little friend Bethsaba, who has been seeing you daily."
"I thought she would have told you."
"No; not a word. Oh, girls nowadays can keep their own counsel! Not once did she mention 'his' name to me; it was by mere chance that I heard it. Herr Pushkin came to me yesterday to ask my permission to dedicate his new poem, The Spring of Baktshisseraj, to me."
"To you?"
"Have you any objection to his doing so?"
"On the contrary, I am glad."
"And he happened casually to mention that in a week he was about to lead Sophie Narishkin to the altar. I was astonished. I fancied you still playing with your dolls. Who brought this big doll to you?"
"My father."
"And do you think yourself sensible enough to marry yet?"