RUDIN
‘You are not angry with me?’ he asked.
‘No,’ she answered, ‘but I did not expect———’
‘However,’ he went on, ‘you need not answer me. I know your secret.’
Natalya looked at him almost with dismay.
‘Yes, yes, I know who has won your heart. And I must say that you could not have made a better choice. He is a splendid man; he knows how to value you; he has not been crushed by life—he is simple and pure-hearted in soul . . . he will make your happiness.’
‘Of whom are you speaking, Dmitri Niklaitch?’
‘Is it possible you don’t understand? Of Volintsev, of course. What? isn’t it true?’
Natalya turned a little away from Rudin. She was completely overwhelmed.
‘Do you imagine he doesn’t love you? Nonsense! he does not take his eyes off you, and follows every movement of yours; indeed, can love ever be concealed? And do not you yourself look on him with favour? So far as I can observe, your mother, too, likes him. . . . Your choice———’
‘Dmitri Nikolaitch,’ Natalya broke in, stretch-
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