Vaninka saw that Foedor could not keep his secret much longer, and determined to anticipate the avowal which she saw every moment on the point of escaping his heart. One day when they were alone, and she saw the hopeless efforts the young man was making to hide his feelings from her, she went straight up to him, and, looking at him fixedly, said: “You love me!” “Forgive me, forgive me,” cried the young man, clasping his hands. “Why should you ask me to forgive you, Foedor? Is not your love genuine?” “Yes, yes, genuine but hopeless.” “Why hopeless? Does not my father love you as a son?” said Vaninka. “Oh, what do you mean?” cried Foedor. “Do you mean that if your father will bestow your hand upon me, that you will then consent—?” “Are you not both noble in heart and by birth, Foedor? You are not wealthy, it is true, but then I am rich enough for both.” “Then I am not indifferent to you?” “I at least prefer you to anyone else I have met.” “Vaninka!” The young girl drew herself away proudly. “Forgive me!” said Foedor. “What am I doing? You have but to order: I have no wish apart from you. I dread lest I shall offend you. Tell me what to do, and I will obey.” “The first thing you must do, Foedor, is to ask my father’s consent.” “So you will allow me to take this step?” “Yes, but on one condition.” “What is it? Tell me.” “My father, whatever his answer, must never know that I have consented to your making this application to him; no one must know that you are following my instructions; the world must remain ignorant of the confession I have just made to you; and, lastly, you must not ask me, whatever happens, to help you in any other way than with my good wishes.” “Whatever you please. I will do everything you wish me to do. Do you not grant me a thousand times more than I dared hope, and if your father refuses me, do I not know myself that you are sharing my grief?” cried Foedor. “Yes; but that will not happen, I hope,” said Vaninka, holding out her hand to the young officer, who kissed it passionately. “Now be hopeful and take courage;” and Vaninka retired, leaving the young man a hundred times more agitated and moved than she was herself, woman though she was. The same day Foedor asked for an interview with the general. The general received his aide-de-camp as usual with a genial and smiling countenance, but with the first words Foedor uttered his face darkened. However, when he heard the young man’s description of the love, so true, constant, and passionate, that he felt for Vaninka, and when he heard that this passion had been the motive power of those glorious deeds he had praised so often, he held out his hand to Foedor, almost as moved as the young soldier.