"She threw herself upon my neck and begged me to take her away, if I valued her life. Without being able to understand anything, I tried to calm her; her sobs redoubled, and, suddenly, in the depth of her grief, she confessed to me,--in a word, I learned that she loves you.--There! You and I are grown men, governed by reason. Well! we will never understand how deep are the sentiments that Annouchka feels, and with what violence they manifest themselves; it is something at once unforeseen and irresistible, like the bursting of a storm. You are, without doubt, a very attractive man," continued Gaguine, "but yet, how have you inspired such a violent passion? I cannot conceive of it, I confess it! She pretends that, as soon as she saw you, she was attracted towards you. That is why she wept so much of late in assuring me that she would never love any one in the world but me. She thinks that you look down upon her, knowing probably her origin. She asked me if I had told you her story. I told her No, as you may imagine, but her penetration frightens me. She had but one thought, that was to go away, and quickly. I stayed with her until morning. She made me promise that we should start to-morrow, and only then was she quieted. After mature reflection, I decided to come and confer with you upon the subject. In my opinion, my sister is right; the best thing is to leave, and I should have taken her away to-day if an idea had not occurred to me, and stopped me. Who knows? Perhaps my sister pleases you; if so, why then should we part? So I decided, and putting aside my pride, relying upon some observations that I had made--yes--I decided to come--to come and ask you"-- Here Gaguine, disconcerted, stopped short. "Pray excuse me--pardon--I am not accustomed to interviews of this kind." I took his hand. "You wish to know if your sister pleases me!" I said to him firmly. "She does please me!" Gaguine fixed his eyes upon me. "But, in short," replied he, hesitating,--"would you marry her?" "How can I answer that question. I make you the judge of it.--Can I do it now?" "I know it, I know it," cried Gaguine; "no, I have no right to expect an answer from you, and the question that I have asked you is unconventional in every particular, but force of circumstances compelled me to do so. It is not safe to play with fire! You don't understand what Annouchka is. She may fall ill, or run away, or even--or even give you a rendezvous. Another would know how to conceal her feelings and wait, but she cannot. It is her first experience, that's the worst of it! If you could have seen to-day the way in which she sobbed at my feet, you would share my fears." I began to reflect. The words of Gaguine, "_Give you a rendezvous_," oppressed my heart. It seemed shameful to me not to answer his honest frankness by a loyal confession.