I am horrid and capricious, I was fascinated by that operatic boat, I am a young lady... but you know I did think that you were dreadfully in love with me.
Don't despise the poor fool, and don't laugh at the tear that dropped just now.
I am awfully given to crying with self-pity.
Come, that's enough, that's enough.
I am no good for anything and you are no good for anything; it's as bad for both of us, so let's comfort ourselves with that.
Anyway, it eases our vanity."
"Dream and delirium," cried Stavrogin, wringing his hands, and pacing about the room.
"Liza, poor child, what have you done to yourself?"
"I've burnt myself in a candle, nothing more.
Surely you are not crying, too?
You should show less feeling and better breeding...."
"Why, why did you come to me?"
"Don't you understand what a ludicrous position you put yourself in in the eyes of the world by asking such questions?"
"Why have you ruined yourself, so grotesquely and so stupidly, and what's to be done now?"
"And this is Stavrogin, 'the vampire Stavrogin,' as you are called by a lady here who is in love with you!
Listen! I have told you already, I've put all my life into one hour and I am at peace.
Do the same with yours... though you've no need to: you have plenty of 'hours' and 'moments' of all sorts before you."
"As many as you; I give you my solemn word, not one hour more than you!"
He was still walking up and down and did not see the rapid penetrating glance she turned upon him, in which there seemed a dawning hope.
But the light died away at the same moment.
"If you knew what it costs me that I can't be sincere at this moment, Liza, if I could only tell you..."
"Tell me?
You want to tell me something, to me?
God save me from your secrets!" she broke in almost in terror.
He stopped and waited uneasily.
"I ought to confess that ever since those days in Switzerland I have had a strong feeling that you have something awful, loathsome, some bloodshed on your conscience... and yet something that would make you look very ridiculous.
Beware of telling me, if it's true: I shall laugh you to scorn.
I shall laugh at you for the rest of your life.... Aie, you are turning pale again?
I won't, I won't, I'll go at once." She jumped up from her chair with a movement of disgust and contempt.
"Torture me, punish me, vent your spite on me," he cried in despair.
"You have the full right.
I knew I did not love you and yet I ruined you!
Yes, I accepted the moment for my own; I had a hope... I've had it a long time... my last hope.... I could not resist the radiance that flooded my heart when you came in to me yesterday, of yourself, alone, of your own accord.
I suddenly believed.... Perhaps I have faith in it still."
"I will repay such noble frankness by being as frank. I don't want to be a Sister of Mercy for you.
Perhaps I really may become a nurse unless I happen appropriately to die to-day; but if I do I won't be your nurse, though, of course, you need one as much as any crippled creature.
I always fancied that you would take me to some place where there was a huge wicked spider, big as a man, and we should spend our lives looking at it and being afraid of it.
That's how our love would spend itself.
Appeal to Dashenka; she will go with you anywhere you like."
"Can't you help thinking of her even now?"
"Poor little spaniel!
Give her my greetings.
Does she know that even in Switzerland you had fixed on her for your old age?
What prudence!
What foresight!
Aie, who's that?"
At the farther end of the room a door opened a crack; a head was thrust in and vanished again hurriedly.
"Is that you, Alexey Yegorytch?" asked Stavrogin.
"No, it's only I." Pyotr Stepanovitch thrust himself half in again.
"How do you do, Lizaveta Nikolaevna? Good morning, anyway.