tand it better than anyone on earth,
and were counting on it yourself. I am a young lady, my heart has been
trained on the opera, that's how it all began, that's the solution."

"No."

"There is nothing in it to fret your vanity. It is all the absolute
truth. It began with a fine moment which was too much for me to bear.
The day before yesterday, when I 'insulted' you before every one and you
answered me so chivalrously, I went home and guessed at once that
you were running away from me because you were married, and not from
contempt for me which, as a fashionable young lady, I dreaded more than
anything. I understood that it was for my sake, for me, mad as I was,
that you ran away. You see how I appreciate your generosity. Then Pyotr
Stepanovitch skipped up to me and explained it all to me at once. He
revealed to me that you were dominated by a 'great idea,' before which
he and I were as nothing, but yet that I was a stumbling-block in your
path. He brought himself in, he insisted that we three should work
together, and said the most fantastic things about a boat and about
maple-wood oars out of some Russian song. I complimented him and told
him he was a poet, which he swallowed as the real thing. And as apart
from him I had known long before that I had not the strength to do
anything for long, I made up my mind on the spot. Well, that's all and
quite enough, and please let us have no more explanations. We might
quarrel. Don't be afraid of anyone, I take it all on myself. I am horrid
and capricious, I was fascinated by that operatic boat, I am a young
lady... but you know I did think that you were dreadfully in love
with me. Don't despise the poor fool, and don't laugh at the tear that
dropped just now. I am awfully given to crying with self-pity. Come,
that's enough, that's enough. I am no good for anything and you are
no good for anything; it's as bad for both of us, so let's comfort
ourselves with that. Anyway, it eases our vanity."

"Dream and delirium," cried Stavrogin, wringing his hands, and pacing
about the room. "Liza, poor child, what have you done to yourself?"

"I've burnt myself in a candle, nothing more. Surely you are not crying,
too? You should show less feeling and better breeding...."

"Why, why did you come to me?"

"Don't you understand what a ludicrous position you put yourself in in
the eyes of the world by asking such questions?"

"Why have you ruined yourself, so grotesquely and so stupid