le enough to say, but--"

Marya Ivanofna interrupted him.

"Do not talk to him too much, Saveliitch; he is still very weak."

She went away, shutting the door carefully.

I felt myself disturbed with confused thoughts. I was evidently in the
house of the Commandant, as Marya Ivanofna could thus come and see me! I
wished to question Saveliitch; but the old man shook his head and turned
a deaf ear. I shut my eyes in displeasure, and soon fell asleep. Upon
waking I called Saveliitch, but in his stead I saw before me Marya
Ivanofna, who greeted me in her soft voice. I cannot describe the
delicious feeling which thrilled through me at this moment, I seized her
hand and pressed it in a transport of delight, while bedewing it with my
tears. Marya did not withdraw it, and all of a sudden I felt upon my
cheek the moist and burning imprint of her lips. A wild flame of love
thrilled through my whole being.

"Dear, good Marya Ivanofna," I said to her, "be my wife. Consent to give
me happiness."

She became reasonable again.

"For heaven's sake, calm yourself," she said, withdrawing her hand. "You
are still in danger; your wound may reopen; be careful of yourself--were
it only for my sake."

After these words she went away, leaving me at the height of happiness.
I felt that life was given back to me.

"She will be mine! She loves me!"

This thought filled all my being.

From this moment I hourly got better. It was the barber of the regiment
who dressed my wound, for there was no other doctor in all the fort,
and, thank God, he did not attempt any doctoring. Youth and nature
hastened my recovery. All the Commandant's family took the greatest
care of me. Marya Ivanofna scarcely ever left me. It is unnecessary to
say that I seized the first favourable opportunity to resume my
interrupted proposal, and this time Marya heard me more patiently. She
naively avowed to me her love, and added that her parents would, in all
probability, rejoice in her happiness.

"But think well about it," she used to say to me. "Will there be no
objections on the part of your family?"

These words made me reflect. I had no doubt of my mother's tenderness;
but knowing the character and way of thinking of my father, I foresaw
that my love would not touch him very much, and that he would call it
youthful folly. I frankly confessed this to Marya Ivanofna, but in spite
of this I resolved to write to my father as eloquently as possible to
ask his b