When yesterday?
Before the music or after?"
"After, in the evening, past eleven o'clock."
"Ahh, well, if it's Rogozhin . . . And do you know what she writes to me in those letters?"
"Nothing would surprise me; she's insane."
"Here are the letters" (Aglaya took from her pocket three letters in three envelopes and threw them down in front of the prince).
"For a whole week now she's been imploring, persuading, luring me into marrying you.
She . . . ah, yes, she's intelligent, though she's insane, and you say rightly that she's much more intelligent than I am . . . she writes to me that she's in love with me, that every day she looks for a chance of seeing me at least from afar.
She writes that you love me, that she knows it, that she noticed it long ago, and that you spoke with her about me there.
She wants to see you happy; she's sure that only I can make you happy . . . She writes so wildly . . . strangely ... I haven't shown anyone these letters, I was waiting for you. Do you know what it means?
Can you guess anything?"
"It's madness; it's proof that she's insane," said the prince, and his lips trembled.
"You're not crying, are you?"
"No, Aglaya, no, I'm not crying," the prince looked at her.
"What am I to do about it?
What do you advise me?
I cannot keep receiving these letters!"
"Oh, let her be, I implore you!" the prince cried. "What can you do in this darkness; I'll make every effort so that she doesn't write to you anymore."
"If so, then you're a man with no heart!" cried Aglaya. "Can't you see that it's not me she's in love with, but you, you alone that she loves!
Can it be that you've managed to notice everything in her, but didn't notice that?
Do you know what these letters mean?
It's jealousy; it's more than jealousy!
She ... do you think she'll really marry Rogozhin, as she writes here in these letters?
She'll kill herself the very day after we get married!"
The prince gave a start; his heart sank.
But he looked at Aglaya in surprise: it was strange for him to admit that this child had long been a woman.
"God knows, Aglaya, I'd give my life to bring back her peace and make her happy, but... I can't love her now, and she knows it!"
"Sacrifice yourself, then, it suits you so well!
You're such a great benefactor.
And don't call me Aglaya' . . . Earlier, too, you called me simply Aglaya' . . . You must resurrect her, it's your duty, you must go away with her again to pacify and soothe her heart.
Anyway, you do love her!"
"I can't sacrifice myself like that, though I did want to once and . . . maybe still want to.
But I know for certain that she'll perish with me, and that's why I'm leaving her.
I was to see her tonight at seven o'clock; maybe I won't go now.
In her pride she'll never forgive me my love—and we'll both perish!
It's unnatural, but everything here is unnatural.
You say she loves me, but is this love?
Can there be such a love, after what I've already endured?
No, there's something else here, but not love!"
"How pale you've grown!" Aglaya suddenly became alarmed.
"Never mind; I didn't sleep enough; I feel weak, I... we actually did talk about you then, Aglaya."
"So it's true?
You really could talk with her about me and . . . and . how could you love me, if you'd seen me only once?"
"I don't know how.
In my darkness then I dreamed . . . perhaps I thought I'd seen a new dawn.
I don't know how it was that you were the first one I thought of.
I wrote you the truth then, that I didn't know.
It was all only a dream, from the horror of that time ... I began to study then; I wouldn't have come back here for three years . . ."
"So you came for her sake?"
And something trembled in Aglaya's voice.