CHAPTER V
"Vavara Andreyevna, when I was very young, I formed for myself an ideal of the woman whom I should love and whom I should be happy to call my wife. I have lived a long life, and now for the first time I find in you all that I was seeking. I love you and I offer you my hand."
Sergyeï Ivanovitch was saying these words to himself when he was within ten steps of Varenka. She was kneeling on the grass and defending with her hands a mushroom from Grisha, and at the same time calling to little Masha.
"Here, come here. Little ones.... lots of them," she cried, in her deep, pleasant voice.
Though she saw Sergyeï Ivanovitch approaching she did not rise nor did she change her position; but everything told him that she was aware of his presence and was glad.
"Did you find any?" she asked, turning her sweet face toward him with a smile.
"Not one," replied Sergyeï Ivanovitch. "And you?"
She made no reply, her attention being just then absorbed by the children who surrounded her.
"Here's one for you near the twig," and she pointed out a little agaricus pushing its elastic red cap through the dry grass, from which it was extricating itself.
Varenka got up, after Masha had plucked the mushroom, breaking it into two white halves. "That reminds me of my childhood," she remarked, as she joined Sergyeï Ivanovitch and walked with him away from the children.
They proceeded a few steps in silence. Varenka saw that he wanted to speak; she suspected what he had in mind, and felt stifled with the emotions of joy and terror. They had now gone so far from the rest that no one could have heard them, yet he had not opened his mouth to speak. Varenka would have done better not to say a word. After a silence it would have been easier to
