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“
But
I
don
’
t
think
!
”
“
Here
you
have
modesty
,
brother
,
silence
,
bashfulness
,
a
savage
virtue
.
.
.
and
yet
she
’
s
sighing
and
melting
like
wax
,
simply
melting
!
Save
me
from
her
,
by
all
that
’
s
unholy
!
She
’
s
most
prepossessing
.
.
.
I
’
ll
repay
you
,
I
’
ll
do
anything
.
.
.
.
”
Zossimov
laughed
more
violently
than
ever
.
“
Well
,
you
are
smitten
!
But
what
am
I
to
do
with
her
?
”
“
It
won
’
t
be
much
trouble
,
I
assure
you
.
Talk
any
rot
you
like
to
her
,
as
long
as
you
sit
by
her
and
talk
.
You
’
re
a
doctor
,
too
;
try
curing
her
of
something
.
I
swear
you
won
’
t
regret
it
.
She
has
a
piano
,
and
you
know
,
I
strum
a
little
.
I
have
a
song
there
,
a
genuine
Russian
one
:
‘
I
shed
hot
tears
.
’
She
likes
the
genuine
article
—
and
well
,
it
all
began
with
that
song
;
Now
you
’
re
a
regular
performer
,
a
maître
,
a
Rubinstein
.
.
.
.
I
assure
you
,
you
won
’
t
regret
it
!
”
“
But
have
you
made
her
some
promise
?
Something
signed
?
A
promise
of
marriage
,
perhaps
?
”
“
Nothing
,
nothing
,
absolutely
nothing
of
the
kind
!
Besides
she
is
not
that
sort
at
all
.
.
.
.
Tchebarov
tried
that
.
.
.
.
”
“
Well
then
,
drop
her
!
”
“
But
I
can
’
t
drop
her
like
that
!
”
