I saw a bit of paper behind his ear.
“You smoke?”
“I do,” he said, evidently expecting that I should begin persuading him to leave that off too. But I did not try to.
He remained silent; and then, by some strange connection of thoughts (I think he saw the interest I felt in his life, and wished to tell me of the important event awaiting him in the autumn) he said:
“But I did not tell you. … I am already betrothed. …”
And he smiled, looking questioningly into my eyes. “It’s to be in the autumn!”
“Really! That’s a good thing! Where is she from?”
He told me.
“Has she a dowry?”
“No; what dowry should she have? But she’s a good girl.”
The idea came to me to put to him the question which always interests me when I come in contact with good young people of our day.
“Tell me,” said I, “and forgive my asking—but please tell the truth: either do not answer at all, or tell the whole truth. …”
He looked at me quietly and attentively.
“Why should I not tell you?”
“Have you ever sinned with a woman?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, he replied simply: