“Don’t worry about her. And there’s no need for you to be inquisitive. Of course, you must ask her yourself, entreat her to do you the honour, you understand? But don’t be uneasy. I shall be here. Besides, you love her.”

Stepan Trofimovitch felt giddy. The walls were going round. There was one terrible idea underlying this to which he could not reconcile himself.

“ Excellente amie ,” his voice quivered suddenly. “I could never have conceived that you would make up your mind to give me in marriage to another⁠ ⁠… woman.”

“You’re not a girl, Stepan Trofimovitch. Only girls are given in marriage. You are taking a wife,” Varvara Petrovna hissed malignantly.

“ Oui, j’ai pris un mot pour un autre. Mais c’est égal. ” He gazed at her with a hopeless air.