le pale. "You promised--"

"Oh, no, angel lady, I've promised nothing," Grushenka interrupted softly
and evenly, still with the same gay and simple expression. "You see at
once, dear young lady, what a willful wretch I am compared with you. If I
want to do a thing I do it. I may have made you some promise just now. But
now again I'm thinking: I may take to Mitya again. I liked him very much
once--liked him for almost a whole hour. Now maybe I shall go and tell him
to stay with me from this day forward. You see, I'm so changeable."

"Just now you said--something quite different," Katerina Ivanovna whispered
faintly.

"Ah, just now! But, you know. I'm such a soft-hearted, silly creature.
Only think what he's gone through on my account! What if when I go home I
feel sorry for him? What then?"

"I never expected--"

"Ah, young lady, how good and generous you are compared with me! Now
perhaps you won't care for a silly creature like me, now you know my
character. Give me your sweet little hand, angelic lady," she said
tenderly, and with a sort of reverence took Katerina Ivanovna's hand.

"Here, dear young lady, I'll take your hand and kiss it as you did mine.
You kissed mine three times, but I ought to kiss yours three hundred times
to be even with you. Well, but let that pass. And then it shall be as God
wills. Perhaps I shall be your slave entirely and want to do your bidding
like a slave. Let it be as God wills, without any agreements and promises.
What a sweet hand--what a sweet hand you have! You sweet young lady, you
incredible beauty!"

She slowly raised the hands to her lips, with the strange object indeed of
"being even" with her in kisses.

Katerina Ivanovna did not take her hand away. She listened with timid hope
to the last words, though Grushenka's promise to do her bidding like a
slave was very strangely expressed. She looked intently into her eyes; she
still saw in those eyes the same simple-hearted, confiding expression, the
same bright gayety.

"She's perhaps too naive," thought Katerina Ivanovna, with a gleam of
hope.

Grushenka meanwhile seemed enthusiastic over the "sweet hand." She raised
it deliberately to her lips. But she held it for two or three minutes near
her lips, as though reconsidering something.

"Do you know, angel lady," she suddenly drawled in an even more soft and
sugary voice, "do you know, after all, I think I won't kiss your hand?"
And she laughed a little merry laugh.

"