“May the Holy Virgin guard you from women of my kind--be careful. You are tender as yet, your heart has not become properly hardened. And women are fond of such as you--strong, handsome, rich. And most of all beware of the quiet women. They stick to a man like blood-suckers, and suck and suck. And at the same time they are always so kind, so gentle. They will keep on sucking your juice, but will preserve themselves. They’ll only break your heart in vain. You had better have dealings with those that are bold, like myself. These live not for the sake of gain.” And she was indeed disinterested. In Perm Foma purchased for her different new things and what-not. She was delighted, but later, having examined them, she said sadly: “Don’t squander your money too freely. See that your father does not get angry. I love you anyway, without all this.” She had already told him that she would go with him only as far as Kazan, where she had a married sister. Foma could not believe that she would leave him, and when, on the eve of their arrival at Kazan, she repeated her words, he became gloomy and began to implore her not to forsake him. “Do not feel sorry in advance,” she said. “We have a whole night before us. You will have time to feel sorry when I bid you good-bye, if you will feel sorry at all.” But he still tried to persuade her not to forsake him, and, finally--which was to be expected--announced his desire to marry her. “So, so!” and she began to laugh. “Shall I marry you while my husband is still alive? My darling, my queer fellow! You have a desire to marry, eh? But do they marry such women as I am? You will have many, many mistresses. Marry then, when you have overflowed, when you have had your fill of all sweets and feel like having rye bread. Then you may marry! I have noticed that a healthy man, for his own peace, must not marry early. One woman will not be enough to satisfy him, and he’ll go to other women. And for your own happiness, you should take a wife only when you know that she alone will suffice for you.” But the more she spoke, the more persistent Foma became in his desire not to part with her. “Just listen to what I’ll tell you,” said the woman, calmly. “A splinter of wood is burning in your hand, and you can see well even without its light--you had better dip it into water, so that there will be no smell of smoke and your hand will not be burned.” “I do not understand your words.” “Do understand. You have done me no wrong, and I do not wish to do you any. And, therefore, I am going away.”