I did not know, and especially
married women, I experienced a shyness a thousand times greater than I
had ever felt with Sonetchka. I dreaded beyond measure that my divinity
should learn of my passion, or even of my existence, since I felt sure
that, once she had done so, she would be so terribly offended that I
should never be forgiven for my presumption. And indeed, if the Amazon
referred to above had ever come to know how I used to stand behind the
grooms and dream of seizing her and carrying her off to some country
spot--if she had ever come to know how I should have lived with her
there, and how I should have treated her, it is probable that she would
have had very good cause for indignation! But I always felt that, once
I got to know her, she would straightway divine these thoughts, and
consider herself insulted by my acquaintance.

As my second affaire du coeur, I, (for the third time) fell in love with
Sonetchka when I saw her at her sister's. My second passion for her had
long since come to an end, but I became enamoured of her this third time
through Lubotshka sending me a copy-book in which Sonetchka had copied
some extracts from Lermontoff's The Demon, with certain of the more
subtly amorous passages underlined in red ink and marked with pressed
flowers. Remembering how Woloda had been wont to kiss his inamorata's
purse last year, I essayed to do the same thing now; and really, when
alone in my room in the evenings and engaged in dreaming as I looked at
a flower or occasionally pressed it to my lips, I would feel a certain
pleasantly lachrymose mood steal over me, and remain genuinely in love
(or suppose myself to be so) for at least several days.

Finally, my third affaire du coeur that winter was connected with the
lady with whom Woloda was in love, and who used occasionally to visit
at our house. Yet, in this damsel, as I now remember, there was not a
single beautiful feature to be found--or, at all events, none of those
which usually pleased me. She was the daughter of a well-known Moscow
lady of light and leading, and, petite and slender, wore long flaxen
curls after the English fashion, and could boast of a transparent
profile. Every one said that she was even cleverer and more learned
than her mother, but I was never in a position to judge of that, since,
overcome with craven bashfulness at the mere thought of her intellect
and accomplishments, I never spoke to her alone but once, and then
with unac