‘You want to know,’ I pronounced in a steady voice, ‘whether I like
your sister? Yes, I do like her--’
Gagin glanced at me. ‘But,’ he said, faltering, ‘you’d hardly marry
her, would you?’
‘How would you have me answer such a question? Only think; can I at the
moment----’
‘I know, I know,’ Gagin cut me short; ‘I have no right to expect an
answer from you, and my question was the very acme of impropriety.… But
what am I to do? One can’t play with fire. You don’t know Acia; she’s
quite capable of falling ill, running away, or asking you to see her
alone.… Any other girl might manage to hide it all and wait--but not
she. It is the first time with her, that’s the worst of it! If you had
seen how she sobbed at my feet to-day, you would understand my fears.’
I was pondering. Gagin’s words ‘asking you to see her alone,’ had sent
a twinge to my heart. I felt it was shameful not to meet his honest
frankness with frankness.
‘Yes,’ I said at last; ‘you are right. An hour ago I got a note from
your sister. Here it is.’
Gagin took the note, quickly looked it through, and let his hands
fall on his knees. The expression of perplexity on his face was very
amusing, but I was in no mood for laughter.
‘I tell you again, you’re an honourable man,’ he said; ‘but what’s to
be done now? What? she herself wants to go away, and she writes to you
and blames herself for acting unwisely … and when had she time to write
this? What does she wish of you?’
I pacified him, and we began to discuss as coolly as we could what we
ought to do.
The conclusion we reached at last was that, to avoid worse harm
befalling, I was to go and meet Acia, and to have a straightforward
explanation with her; Gagin pledged himself to stay at home, and not to
give a sign of knowing about her note to me; in the evening we arranged
to see each other again.
‘I have the greatest confidence in you,’ said Gagin, and he pressed my
hand; ‘have mercy on her and on me. But we shall go away to-morrow,
anyway,’ he added getting up, ‘for you won’t marry Acia, I see.’
‘Give me time till the evening,’ I objected.
‘All right, but you won’t marry her.’
He went away, and I threw myself on the sofa, and shut my eyes. My
head was going round; too many impressions had come bursting on it at
once. I was vexed at Gagin’s frankness, I was vexed with Acia, her
love delighted and disconcerted me, I could not comprehend what had
made her reveal it to her brother; the absolute necessity of rapid,
almost instantaneous decision exasperated me. ‘Marry a little girl of
seventeen, with her character, how is it possible?’ I said, getting up.