grew angry at myself: I understood how foolish it was for me to hope that I should be able to direct toward myself the attention of so charming a creature.
I could not hope that my feelings would be reciprocated, and I did not even think of it: my soul was full of happiness as it was. I did not imagine that one could demand any greater happiness than the sentiment of love, which filled all my soul with delight, and that one could desire anything other than that this sentiment should never come to an end. I was satisfied as it was. My heart fluttered like a dove, the blood continually rushed to it, and I felt like weeping.
When we passed through the corridor, near the dark lumber-room under the staircase, I cast a glance at it, and thought: What happiness that would be if it were possible to pass an eternity with her in that dark lumber-room, and if no one knew that we were living there.
"Don't you think we have had a jolly time to-night?" I said in a quiet, quivering voice, and increased my steps, being frightened not so much at what I had said, as at what I was about to say.
"Yes, very!" she answered, turning her head to me with such an open and kind expression that I ceased being afraid.
"Especially after supper. But if you knew how sorry I am (I had intended to say "unhappy") that you are going to leave soon, and that we shall not see each other again!"
"Why should we not see each other?" she said, looking sharply at the tips of her little shoes, and passing her fingers over the trellis by which we were walking. "Every Tuesday and Friday mamma and I drive out to the Tver Boulevard. Don't you ever drive out?"
"I will certainly ask next Tuesday, and if they will not let me, I will run there all alone, without a cap. I know the road well."
