Besides, he's still a handsome man... In short, Stepan Trofimovitch, for whom you have always had such a respect.
Well?"
Dasha looked at her still more inquiringly, and this time not simply with surprise; she blushed perceptibly.
"Stay, hold your tongue, don't be in a hurry!
Though you will have money under my will, yet when I die, what will become of you, even if you have money?
You'll be deceived and robbed of your money, you'll be lost in fact.
But married to him you're the wife of a distinguished man.
Look at him on the other hand. Though I've provided for him, if I die what will become of him?
But I could trust him to you.
Stay, I've not finished. He's frivolous, shilly-shally, cruel, egoistic, he has low habits. But mind you think highly of him, in the first place because there are many worse.
I don't want to get you off my hands by marrying you to a rascal, you don't imagine anything of that sort, do you?
And, above all, because I ask you, you'll think highly of him,"— She broke off suddenly and irritably. "Do you hear?
Why won't you say something?"
Dasha still listened and did not speak.
"Stay, wait a little.
He's an old woman, but you know, that's all the better for you.
Besides, he's a pathetic old woman.
He doesn't deserve to be loved by a woman at all, but he deserves to be loved for his helplessness, and you must love him for his helplessness.
You understand me, don't you?
Do you understand me?"
Dasha nodded her head affirmatively.
"I knew you would. I expected as much of you.
He will love you because he ought, he ought; he ought to adore you." Varvara Petrovna almost shrieked with peculiar exasperation.
"Besides, he will be in love with you without any ought about it. I know him.
And another thing, I shall always be here.
You may be sure I shall always be here.
He will complain of you, he'll begin to say things against you behind your back, he'll whisper things against you to any stray person he meets, he'll be for ever whining and whining; he'll write you letters from one room to another, two a day, but he won't be able to get on without you all the same, and that's the chief thing.
Make him obey you. If you can't make him you'll be a fool.
He'll want to hang himself and threaten, to—don't you believe it. It's nothing but nonsense.
Don't believe it; but still keep a sharp look-out, you never can tell, and one day he may hang himself. It does happen with people like that. It's not through strength of will but through weakness that people hang themselves, and so never drive him to an extreme, that's the first rule in married life.
Remember, too, that he's a poet.
Listen, Dasha, there's no greater happiness than self-sacrifice.
And besides, you'll be giving me great satisfaction and that's the chief thing.
Don't think I've been talking nonsense. I understand what I'm saying.
I'm an egoist, you be an egoist, too.
Of course I'm not forcing you. It's entirely for you to decide. As you say, so it shall be.
Well, what's the good of sitting like this. Speak!"
"I don't mind, Varvara Petrovna, if I really must be married," said Dasha firmly.
"Must?
What are you hinting at?" Varvara Petrovna looked sternly and intently at her.
Dasha was silent, picking at her embroidery canvas with her needle.
"Though you're a clever girl, you're talking nonsense; though it is true that I have certainly set my heart on marrying you, yet it's not because it's necessary, but simply because the idea has occurred to me, and only to Stepan Trofimovitch.
If it had not been for Stepan Trofimovitch, I should not have thought of marrying you yet, though you are twenty.... Well?"
"I'll do as you wish, Varvara Petrovna."
"Then you consent!
Stay, be quiet. Why are you in such a hurry? I haven't finished. In my will I've left you fifteen thousand roubles.
I'll give you that at once, on your wedding-day.
You will give eight thousand of it to him; that is, not to him but to me.
He has a debt of eight thousand. I'll pay it, but he must know that it is done with your money.
You'll have seven thousand left in your hands. Never let him touch a farthing of it.