Ivanovna did not take her hand away. She listened with timid hope to the last words, though Grushenka’s promise to do her bidding like a slave was very strangely expressed. She looked intently into her eyes; she still saw in those eyes the same simple-hearted, confiding expression, the same bright gayety.
“She’s perhaps too naive,” thought Katerina Ivanovna, with a gleam of hope.
Grushenka meanwhile seemed enthusiastic over the “sweet hand.” She raised it deliberately to her lips. But she held it for two or three minutes near her lips, as though reconsidering something.
“Do you know, angel lady,” she suddenly drawled in an even more soft and sugary voice, “do you know, after all, I think I won’t kiss your hand?” And she laughed a little merry laugh.
“As you please. What’s the matter with you?” said Katerina Ivanovna, starting suddenly.
“So that you may be