n anyone what
nonsense that is. You're a sensible girl, and there must be no mistakes
in your life. Besides, he's still a handsome man... In short, Stepan
Trofimovitch, for whom you have always had such a respect. Well?"

Dasha looked at her still more inquiringly, and this time not simply
with surprise; she blushed perceptibly.

"Stay, hold your tongue, don't be in a hurry! Though you will have money
under my will, yet when I die, what will become of you, even if you have
money? You'll be deceived and robbed of your money, you'll be lost in
fact. But married to him you're the wife of a distinguished man. Look at
him on the other hand. Though I've provided for him, if I die what will
become of him? But I could trust him to you. Stay, I've not finished.
He's frivolous, shilly-shally, cruel, egoistic, he has low habits. But
mind you think highly of him, in the first place because there are many
worse. I don't want to get you off my hands by marrying you to a rascal,
you don't imagine anything of that sort, do you? And, above all, because
I ask you, you'll think highly of him,"--

She broke off suddenly and irritably. "Do you hear? Why won't you say
something?"

Dasha still listened and did not speak.

"Stay, wait a little. He's an old woman, but you know, that's all the
better for you. Besides, he's a pathetic old woman. He doesn't deserve
to be loved by a woman at all, but he deserves to be loved for his
helplessness, and you must love him for his helplessness. You understand
me, don't you? Do you understand me?"

Dasha nodded her head affirmatively.

"I knew you would. I expected as much of you. He will love you because
he ought, he ought; he ought to adore you." Varvara Petrovna almost
shrieked with peculiar exasperation. "Besides, he will be in love with
you without any ought about it. I know him. And another thing, I shall
always be here. You may be sure I shall always be here. He will complain
of you, he'll begin to say things against you behind your back, he'll
whisper things against you to any stray person he meets, he'll be for
ever whining and whining; he'll write you letters from one room to
another, two a day, but he won't be able to get on without you all the
same, and that's the chief thing. Make him obey you. If you can't make
him you'll be a fool. He'll want to hang himself and threaten, to--don't
you believe it. It's nothing but nonsense. Don't believe it; but still
keep a sharp look-out, you neve