“Yes, yes⁠ ⁠… though I don’t agree with you in everything,” added Avdotya Romanovna earnestly and at once uttered a cry, for he squeezed her hand so painfully.

“Yes, you say yes⁠ ⁠… well after that you⁠ ⁠… you⁠ ⁠…” he cried in a transport, “you are a fount of goodness, purity, sense⁠ ⁠… and perfection. Give me your hand⁠ ⁠… you give me yours, too! I want to kiss your hands here at once, on my knees⁠ ⁠…” and he fell on his knees on the pavement, fortunately at that time deserted.

“Leave off, I entreat you, what are you doing?” Pulcheria Alexandrovna cried, greatly distressed.

“Get up, get up!” said Dounia laughing, though she, too, was upset.