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. "You know," she began in a weak, quivering voice that
nevertheless had something in it that immediately clutched at my heart,
making it throb with a sweet pain, "you mustn't think I'm so fickle
and irresponsible, that I'm so quick to forget and to betray. I've loved
him for a whole year, and I swear to God that I've never, not once, been
unfaithful to him. Not even in thought. But he's scorned that; he's made
light of my feelings. Well, good luck to him! But he has also wounded
me and slighted my love. No, I don't love him, for I can only love one
who is generous, understanding, and kind, because I myself am like that—so
he's unworthy of me. All right, I wish him all the best! It's better like
this than finding out later that I had deluded myself, than discovering
too late what sort of man he is.... Anyway, it's over! But come to think
of it, my dear, maybe all my love for him was nothing but a delusion;
maybe it began as a childish adventure; maybe it was caused by the wish
to escape from under my grandmother's thumb; maybe I was destined to love
a man other than him, a man who could feel for me, understand me, and....
But let's leave that!" Nastenka was short of breath in her excitement.
"All I want to say is that if, although I love—no, rather loved—him—although,
you might say.... If you think your love is great enough to displace my
former love.... If you will take pity on me and not leave me to face my
destiny all alone without offering me consolation, support and hope—if
you're willing to love me always as you love me now, then I swear to you
that my gratitude—I mean my love—will, in the end, be worthy of your love....
Here, will you take my hand now?"
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