lowed the dictates of your heart, but then it must end in marriage
sometime or other."

"I don't know... I had not thought of that."

"You had not thought of that? You must be mad!"

Mariana turned away.

"Let us make an end of this conversation, Valentina Mihailovna. It won't
lead to anything. In any case we won't understand each other."

Valentina Mihailovna started up.

"I can't, I won't put an end to this conversation! It's far too
serious... I am responsible for you before..."

Valentina Mihailovna was going to say God, but hesitated and added,
"before the whole world! I can't be silent when I hear such utter
madness! And why can't I understand you, pray? What insufferable pride
these young people have nowadays! On the contrary, I understand you only
too well... I can see that you are infected with these new ideas, which
will only be your ruin. It will be too late to turn back then."

"Maybe; but believe me, even if we perish, we will not so much as
stretch out a finger that you might save us!"

"Pride again! This awful pride! But listen, Mariana, listen to me," she
added, suddenly changing her tone. She wanted to draw Mariana nearer to
herself, but the latter stepped back a pace. "Ecoutez-moi, je vous en
conjure! After all, I am not so old nor so stupid that it should
be impossible for us to understand each other! Je ne suis pas une
encroutee. I was even considered a republican as a girl.. no less
than you. Listen, I won't pretend that I ever had any motherly feeling
towards you... and it is not in your nature to complain of that... But I
always felt, and feel now, that I owed certain duties towards you, and
I have always endeavoured to fulfil them. Perhaps the match I had in
my mind for you, for which both Boris Andraevitch and I would have been
ready to make any sacrifice... may not have been fully in accordance
with your ideas... but in the bottom of my heart--"

Mariana looked at Valentina Mihailovna, at her wonderful eyes, her
slightly painted lips, at her white hands, the parted fingers adorned
with rings, which the elegant lady so energetically pressed against the
bodice of her silk dress.

Suddenly she interrupted her.

"Did you say a match, Valentina Mihailovna? Do you call that heartless,
vulgar friend of yours, Mr. Kollomietzev, 'a match?'"

Valentina Mihailovna took her fingers from her bodice. "Yes, Mariana
Vikentievna! I am speaking of that cultured, excellent young man, Mr.
Kollomiet