"Your brother but jested; no woman was in my mind, or at least is there
now."
"And what is it that you like about women?" she asked, turning her head
with a childlike curiosity.
"What a singular question!" I cried.
Annouchka was immediately troubled.
"I shouldn't have asked you such a question, should I? Forgive me; I am
accustomed to say whatever comes into my head. That is why I am afraid
to speak."
"Speak, I beg you! Fear nothing, I am so delighted at seeing you less
wild."
Annouchka lowered her eyes, and for the first time I heard a sweet low
laugh come from her lips.
"Come, tell me about your trip," she said, arranging the folds of her
dress over her knees, as if to install herself there for a long time;
"begin or recite something to me, that which you read from Onéguine."[4]
[Footnote 4: Poem of Pouchkina.]