Page 842 - the-idiot

audibly.
‘Never told either him or me?’ cried Aglaya. ‘How about
your letters? Who asked you to try to persuade me to mar-
ry him? Was not that a declaration from you? Why do you
force yourself upon us in this way? I confess I thought at
first that you were anxious to arouse an aversion for him in
my heart by your meddling, in order that I might give him
up; and it was only afterwards that I guessed the truth. You
imagined that you were doing an heroic action! How could
you spare any love for him, when you love your own van-
ity to such an extent? Why could you not simply go away
from here, instead of writing me those absurd letters? Why
do you not NOW marry that generous man who loves you,
and has done you the honour of offering you his hand? It
is plain enough why; if you marry Rogojin you lose your
grievance; you will have nothing more to complain of. You
will be receiving too much honour. Evgenie Pavlovitch was
saying the other day that you had read too many poems and
are too well educated for—your position; and that you live
in idleness. Add to this your vanity, and, there you have
reason enough—‘
‘And do you not live in idleness?’
Things had come to this unexpected point too quickly.
Unexpected because Nastasia Philipovna, on her way to
Pavlofsk, had thought and considered a good deal, and had
expected something different, though perhaps not altogeth-
er good, from this interview; but Aglaya had been carried
away by her own outburst, just as a rolling stone gathers im-
petus as it careers downhill, and could not restrain herself

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