“I—I love her,” I said hoarsely.
“Yes, yes, I understand. But do not take it to heart so much, Anton,” she urged. “Mariána has been unfortunate; but for what reason should you sacrifice your own liberty? You are known by the police as a Nihilist; therefore, if you go to Siberia, you are almost certain to be detained there. Besides, even if you found her, you would be unable to secure her liberty.”
“No; I must do my best,” I replied.
“Do not run such an unnecessary risk,” she exclaimed, rising suddenly, and coming behind my chair in an endeavour to console me. “You remember that once you told me you cared for me?”
“What—what do you mean?” I cried wildly.
“I mean—I mean that I love you, Anton!”
“Love me!” I stammered, in amazement.
“Yes,” she said earnestly. “You know how passionately I have loved you, yet this is the first time I have admitted it. Surely you are not blind? Since I first saw you I have thought of no other man. It is you—you only—that I care for.”
“But I——”
“Say the word,” she implored. “Tell me that you will cast aside that pink-and-white, ill-bred doll, whose prettiness is already fading, and I, Agraféna Teréshkevna, am ready to become your wife as soon as the marriage formalities can be arranged.”