Marianna was somewhat disconcerted; however, she said, 'Yes.'
'With Nezhdanov?'
'Well, yes.'
'If you please . . . give me your hand. Forgive me, please. You must be good, since he loves you.'
Marianna pressed her hand.
'Do you know Nezhdanov well?'
'Yes, I know him. I used to see him in Petersburg. That's what makes me say so. Sergei Mihalitch, too, told me.. . .'
'Ah, Markelov! You have seen him lately?'
'Yes. Now he's gone away.'
'Where?'
'Where he was ordered.'
Marianna sighed.
'Ah, Miss Mashurin, I fear for him,'
'To begin with, I'm not "Miss." You ought to cast off all such manners. And, secondly . . . you say, "I fear." That won't do either. You will come not to fear for yourself, and to give up fearing for others. Though indeed I'll tell you what strikes me: it's easy for me, Fekla Mashurina, to talk like that. I'm ugly. But of course . . . you're a beauty. That must make it all the harder for you.' (Marianna looked down and turned away.) 'Sergei Mihalovitch told me.. . . He knew I
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