In this moment Nikolai feels almost a kind of horror for his father.
"You cannot know of whom you speak," says he, icily; "it is a question of a young girl of very good family."
"I know very well of whom I speak," replies Lensky, vexed at his son's admonition. "It is a question of a young artist who, separated from her family, goes her own way. I cannot possibly expect of such a gifted exception that she will be restrained by the same prejudices as any little goose."
The blood rushes to Nikolai's cheeks. "I would be in despair if I believed that she thought herself above such prejudices," says he.
"Laughable," said the elder, unconvinced. Then looking askance at his son: "H-m! you seem to have taken it greatly to heart. If you carry such views with you through life, I congratulate you; you will have much suffering. But I pain no one willingly. If I had known that you--I would have been silent. I will not deprive you of your illusions; no one should do that for any man. Heavens! what would men be without illusions! They would creep on all fours. I am no longer far from that. But let us not speak of me; it is better that we speak of you. Only rave calmly to the blue air if it pleases you. I envy you the capacity."
"I have not the slightest intention of raving to the air," replies Nikolai, calmly, but still somewhat stiffly and coldly. "I have a fixed purpose before me."
"You wish to marry?" Lensky exclaims.
"Yes," says Nikolai, shortly.
"Marry at your age! Pardon me, but I never thought you so unpractical."
An unpleasant pause follows. Nikolai at length begins in a trembling voice: "Father, when you look back upon your whole life, even now a long one, what is there in it more beautiful than the first years of your marriage?"