He replied that he had not, fearing that she might accuse him of spying, and at her request began to read:
“Ma belle chamante divine Vera Vassilievna! I am enraptured and fall on my knees before your dear, noble, handsome cousin; he has avenged me, and I am triumphant and weep for joy. He was great. Tell him that he is ever my knight, that I am his devoted slave. Ah, how I admire him, I would say--the word is on the tip of my tongue--but I dare not. Yet why should I not? Yes, I love him, I adore him. Everyone must adore him....”
Here Raisky attempted to return the letter, but Vera bade him continue, as there was a request for him. He skipped a few lines and proceeded:--
“Implore your cousin (he adores you. Do not deny it, for I have seen his passionate glances. What would I not give to be in your place).
“Implore your cousin, darling Vera Vassilievna, to paint my portrait. I don’t really care about the portrait, but to be with an artist to admire him, to speak to him, to breathe the same air with him! _Ma pauvre tête, je deviens folle. Je compte sur vous, ma belle et bonne amie, et j’attends la réponse_.”
“What answer shall I give her?” asked Vera, as Raisky laid the letter on the table.
He was thinking of the other letter, wondering why she had hidden it, and did not hear her question.
“How is it to be done then? She wants to breathe the same air as you.”
“But if I ask you to do it?” whispered Vera.
“You, what difference can it make to you?” he asked trembling.
“I should like to say something pleasant to her,” she returned, but did not add that she seized this means of detaching him from herself. Paulina Karpovna would not lightly let him out of her hands.
“Should you accept it as a sign of friendship if I fulfilled your wish? Well, then,” as she nodded, “I make two conditions, one that you should be present at the sittings. Otherwise I should be clearing out at the first sitting. Do you agree?” Then, as she nodded unwillingly, “the second is that you show me the other letter.”
“The one you hid so quickly in your pocket.”
“You would not have hidden this letter in terror; will you show the other?”
“You are beginning again,” she said reproachfully.
“You need not trouble. I was only jesting. But for God’s sake do not look on me as a despôt or a spy; it was mere curiosity. God be with you and your secrets.”