And she suddenly burst into tears.
“You don’t know how sorry I am for Natasha,” she whispered, her lips quivering with tears.
There was nothing more to be said.
I was silent, and I too felt inclined to cry as I watched her, for no particular reason, from a vague feeling like tenderness. what a charming child she was!
I no longer felt it necessary to ask her why she thought she could make Alyosha happy.
“Are you fond of music?” she asked, growing a little calmer, though she was still subdued by her recent tears.
“Yes,” I answered, with some surprise.
“If there were time I’d play you Beethoven’s third concerto.
That’s what I’m playing now.
All those feelings are in it . . . just as I feel them now.
So it seems to me.
But that must be another time, now we must talk.”
We began discussing how she could meet Natasha, and how it was all to be arranged.
She told me that they kept a watch on her, and though her stepmother was kind and fond of her, she would never allow her to make friends with Natalya Nikolaevna, and so she had decided to have recourse to deception.
She sometimes went a drive in the morning, but almost always with the countess.
Sometimes the countess didn’t go with her but sent her out alone with a French lady, who was ill just now.
Sometimes the countess had headaches, and so she would have to wait until she had one.
And meanwhile she would overpersuade her Frenchwoman (an old lady who was some sort of companion), for the latter was very goodnatured.
The upshot of it was that it was impossible to fix beforehand what day she would be able to visit Natasha.
“You won’t regret making Natasha’s acquaintance,” I said.
“She is very anxious to know you too, and she must, if only to know to whom she is giving up Alyosha.
Don’t worry too much about it all.
Time will settle it all, without your troubling You are going into the country, aren’t you?”
“Quite soon. In another month perhaps,” she answered “And I know the prince is insisting on it.”
“What do you think – will Alyosha go with you?
“I’ve thought about that,” she said, looking intently at me
“He will go, won’t he?”
“Yes, he will.”
“Good heavens, how it will all end I don’t know.
I tell you what, Ivan Petrovitch, I’ll write to you about everything, I’ll write to you often, fully.
Now I’m going to worry you, too.
Will you often come and see us?”
“I don’t know, Katerina Fyodorovna. That depends upon circumstances.
Perhaps I may not come at all.”
“Why not?”
“It will depend on several considerations, and chiefly what terms I am on with the prince.”
“He’s a dishonest man,” said Katya with decision.
“I tell you what, Ivan Petrovitch, how if I should come to see you?
Will that be a good thing, or not?”
“What do you think yourself?”
“I think it would be a good thing.
In that way I could bring you news,” she added with a smile.
“And I say this because I like you very much as well as respect you. And could learn a great deal from you.
And I like you. . . . And it’s not disgraceful my speaking of it, is it?”
“Why should it be?
You’re as dear to me already as on of my own family.”
“Then you want to be my friend?
“Oh yes, yes!” I answered.
“And they would certainly say it was disgraceful and that a young girl ought not to behave like this,” she observed, again indicating the group in conversation at the teatable.
I may mention here that the prince seemed purposely to leave us alone that we might talk to our heart’s content.