White nights, and other storiesDostoyevsky, Fyodor
General
White nights, and other stories
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor, 1821-1881 -- Translations into English; Russian fiction -- Translations into English
"Yes, yes! tell me, talk to me," said Nastenka with an indescribable
gesture. "Perhaps you think it strange that I talk to you like this, but
... speak! I will tell you afterwards! I will tell you everything."
"You are sorry for me, Nastenka, you are simply sorry for me, my dear
little friend! What's done can't be mended. What is said cannot be taken
back. Isn't that so? Well, now you know. That's the starting-point. Very
well. Now it's all right, only listen. When you were sitting crying I
thought to myself (oh, let me tell you what I was thinking!), I thought,
that (of course it cannot be, Nastenka), I thought that you ... I
thought that you somehow ... quite apart from me, had ceased to love
him. Then--I thought that yesterday and the day before yesterday,
Nastenka--then I would--I certainly would--have succeeded in making you
love me; you know, you said yourself, Nastenka, that you almost loved
me. Well, what next? Well, that's nearly all I wanted to tell you; all
that is left to say is how it would be if you loved me, only that,
nothing more! Listen, my friend--for any way you are my friend--I am, of
course, a poor, humble man, of no great consequence; but that's not the
point (I don't seem to be able to say what I mean, Nastenka, I am so
confused), only I would love you, I would love you so, that even if you
still loved him, even if you went on loving the man I don't know, you
would never feel that my love was a burden to you. You would only feel
every minute that at your side was beating a grateful, grateful heart, a
warm heart ready for your sake.... Oh Nastenka, Nastenka! What have you
done to me?"
"Don't cry; I don't want you to cry," said Nastenka getting up quickly
from the seat. "Come along, get up, come with me, don't cry, don't cry,"
she said, drying her tears with her handkerchief; "let us go now; maybe
I will tell you something.... If he has forsaken me now, if he has
forgotten me, though I still love him (I do not want to deceive you) ...
but listen, answer me. If I were to love you, for instance, that is, if
I only.... Oh my friend, my friend! To think, to think how I wounded
you, when I laughed at your love, when I praised you for not falling in
love with me. Oh dear! How was it I did not foresee this, how was it I
did not foresee this, how could I have been so stupid? But.... Well, I
have made up my mind, I will tell you."
"Look here, Nastenka, do you know what? I'll go away, that's what I'll
do. I am simply tormenting you. Here you are remorseful for having
laughed at me, and I won't have you ... in addition to your sorrow....
Of course it is my fault, Nastenka, but good-bye!"
"Stay, listen to me: can you wait?"
"What for? How?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account