Such was the view Kasátsky held of women, and that was how he regarded his fiancée. He was particularly in love that day, but did not experience any sensual desire for her. On the contrary he regarded her with tender adoration as something unattainable.
He rose to his full height, standing before her with both hands on his sabre.
“I have only now realized what happiness a man can experience! And it is you, my darling, who have given me this happiness,” he said with a timid smile.
Endearments had not yet become usual between them, and feeling himself morally inferior he felt terrified at this stage to use them to such an angel.
“It is thanks to you that I have come to know myself. I have learnt that I am better than I thought.”
“I have known that for a long time. That was why I began to love you.”
Nightingales trilled nearby and the fresh leafage rustled, moved by a passing breeze.
He took her hand and kissed it, and tears came into his eyes.
She understood that he was thanking her for having said she loved him. He silently took a few steps up and down, and then approached her again and sat down.
“You know … I have to tell you … I was not disinterested when I began to make love to you. I wanted to get into society; but later … how unimportant that became in comparison with you—when I got to know you. You are not angry with me for that?”