"When I lived with my mother I often asked myself why no one knew what
would happen to them, and why, when foreseeing a misfortune, one cannot
avoid it. And why also can one not tell the whole truth. I was thinking
moreover last night that I ought to study, that I know nothing; I need a
new education. I have been badly brought up. I have neither learned to
draw nor to play upon the piano; I hardly know how to sew. I have no
talent, people must be very much bored with me."
"You are unjust to yourself," I replied to her; "you have read a great
deal, and with your intelligence"--
"And I am intelligent?" she asked, with such a curious naïve air that I
could hardly keep from laughing.
"Am I intelligent, brother?" she asked of Gaguine.
He did not reply, but kept on painting assiduously, changing his brush
over and over again, and raising his hand very high at every stroke.
"Really at times I have no idea what I have in my head," replied
Annouchka, still thoughtful. "Sometimes, I assure you, I am afraid of
myself. Ah! I would like--Is it true that women should not read a great
many things?"
"A great many things are not necessary, but"--
"Tell me what I should read, what I should do. I will follow your advice
in everything," added she, turning towards me with a burst of
confidence.