my
breast.

"Perhaps," I reflected, "it is for that very reason that you have loved
me; joys are forgotten, but sorrows never"...

I clasped her closely to my breast, and so we remained for a long
time. At length our lips drew closer and became blent in a fervent,
intoxicating kiss. Her hands were cold as ice; her head was burning.

And hereupon we embarked upon one of those conversations which, on
paper, have no sense, which it is impossible to repeat, and impossible
even to retain in memory. The meaning of the sounds replaces and
completes the meaning of the words, as in Italian opera.

She is decidedly averse to my making the acquaintance of her husband,
the lame old man of whom I had caught a glimpse on the boulevard.
She married him for the sake of her son. He is rich, and suffers from
attacks of rheumatism. I did not allow myself even a single scoff at
his expense. She respects him as a father, and will deceive him as a
husband... A strange thing, the human heart in general, and woman's
heart in particular.

Vera's husband, Semyon Vasilevich G----v, is a distant relation of
Princess Ligovski. He lives next door to her. Vera frequently visits
the Princess. I have given her my promise to make the Ligovskis'
acquaintance, and to pay court to Princess Mary in order to distract
attention from Vera. In such way, my plans have been not a little
deranged, but it will be amusing for me...

Amusing!... Yes, I have already passed that period of spiritual
life when happiness alone is sought, when the heart feels the urgent
necessity of violently and passionately loving somebody. Now my only
wish is to be loved, and that by very few. I even think that I would be
content with one constant attachment. A wretched habit of the heart!...

One thing has always struck me as strange. I have never made myself the
slave of the woman I have loved. On the contrary, I have always acquired
an invincible power over her will and heart, without in the least
endeavouring to do so. Why is this? Is it because I never esteem
anything highly, and she has been continually afraid to let me out of
her hands? Or is it the magnetic influence of a powerful organism? Or is
it, simply, that I have never succeeded in meeting a woman of stubborn
character?

I must confess that, in fact, I do not love women who possess strength
of character. What business have they with such a thing?

Indeed, I remember now. Once and once only did I love a woman wh