look and statuesque pose--many times afterwards did these
things recur with unexpected vividness to my recollection.

XXVII. DIMITRI

WHEN we returned to the house from our stroll, Varenika declined to
sing as she usually did in the evenings, and I was conceited enough to
attribute this to my doing, in the belief that its reason lay in what
I had said on the bridge. The Nechludoffs never had supper, and went to
bed early, while to-night, since Dimitri had the toothache (as Sophia
Ivanovna had foretold), he departed with me to his room even earlier
than usual. Feeling that I had done all that was required of me by my
blue collar and gilt buttons, and that every one was very pleased with
me, I was in a gratified, complacent mood, while Dimitri, on the other
hand, was rendered by his quarrel with his sister and the toothache
both taciturn and gloomy. He sat down at the table, got out a couple of
notebooks--a diary and the copy-book in which it was his custom every
evening to inscribe the tasks performed by or awaiting him--and,
continually frowning and touching his cheek with his hand, continued
writing for a while.

"Oh, DO leave me alone!" he cried to the maid whom Sophia Ivanovna sent
to ask him whether his teeth were still hurting him, and whether he
would not like to have a poultice made. Then, saying that my bed would
soon be ready for me and that he would be back presently, he departed to
Lubov Sergievna's room.

"What a pity that Varenika is not good-looking and, in general,
Sonetchka!" I reflected when I found myself alone. "How nice it would be
if, after I have left the University, I could go to her and offer her
my hand! I would say to her, 'Princess, though no longer young, and
therefore unable to love passionately, I will cherish you as a dear
sister. And you,' I would continue to her mother, 'I greatly respect;
and you, Sophia Ivanovna, I value highly. Therefore say to me, Varenika
(since I ask you to be my wife), just the simple and direct word YES.'
And she would give me her hand, and I should press it, and say, 'Mine is
a love which depends not upon words, but upon deeds.' And suppose,"
next came into my head, "that Dimitri should suddenly fall in love with
Lubotshka (as Lubotshka has already done with him), and should desire to
marry her? Then either one or the other of us would have to resign all
thought of marriage. Well, it would be splendid, for in that case I
should act thus. As soon as I h