embling, opening
his eyes wider and wider. He heard it all, but he could not realise it
clearly. He tried to speak, but his voice kept breaking. All he knew
was that everything would be as she said, that to protest and refuse to
agree would be useless, and that he was a married man irrevocably.

_"Mais, ma bonne amie!_...for the third time, and at my age...and to
such a child." He brought out at last, _"Mais, c'est une enfant!"_

"A child who is twenty years old, thank God. Please don't roll your
eyes, I entreat you, you're not on the stage. You're very clever and
learned, but you know nothing at all about life. You will always want a
nurse to look after you. I shall die, and what will become of you?
She will be a good nurse to you; she's a modest girl, strong-willed,
reasonable; besides, I shall be here too, I shan't die directly. She's
fond of home, she's an angel of gentleness. This happy thought came to
me in Switzerland. Do you understand if I tell you myself that she is
an angel of gentleness!" she screamed with sudden fury. "Your house is
dirty, she will bring in order, cleanliness. Everything will shine like
a mirror. Good gracious, do you expect me to go on my knees to you with
such a treasure, to enumerate all the advantages, to court you! Why, you
ought to be on your knees.... Oh, you shallow, shallow, faint-hearted
man!"

"But... I'm an old man!"

"What do your fifty-three years matter! Fifty is the middle of life,
not the end of it. You are a handsome man and you know it yourself. You
know, too, what a respect she has for you. If I die, what will become of
her? But married to you she'll be at peace, and I shall be at peace. You
have renown, a name, a loving heart. You receive a pension which I look
upon as an obligation. You will save her perhaps, you will save her! In
any case you will be doing her an honour. You will form her for life,
you will develop her heart, you will direct her ideas. How many people
come to grief nowadays because their ideas are wrongly directed. By that
time your book will be ready, and you will at once set people talking
about you again."

"I am, in fact," he muttered, at once flattered by Varvara Petrovna's
adroit insinuations. "I was just preparing to sit down to my 'Tales from
Spanish History.'"

"Well, there you are. It's just come right."

"But... she? Have you spoken to her?"

"Don't worry about her. And there's no need for you to be inquisitive.
Of course, you mus