His tone is rough, quite harsh. He belongs to the men who at times ill-treat their kin from rage at not being able to make them happy.
"She has refused me, to-day, that is all," murmured Nikolai, turning away his head, as if in shame.
"Refused--you!" bursts out Lensky; then uneasy, confused, he draws his chair nearer to Nikolai's. "Refused you! I do not understand it!" Suddenly he takes his son's head between his hands, and looking at him with quite childish pride in his beautiful eyes, he cries out: "But that is absurd, boundlessly absurd! What will she, then, the princess, if my splendid boy is not good enough for her? No; do not think anything of it, my boy. Hold up your head, it was a misunderstanding!"
"Really--certainly! It is only the first time," murmurs Nikolai, with the same stiff smile. Then suddenly, with a gasping sob, which shakes his whole frame, he buries his face in his crossed arms on the table.
"Colia! Nikolinka! Poor boy, poor fellow!" murmurs Lensky, stroking his head very gently. "So it cuts so deep. See, I do not understand it. At first I was only vexed, reviled her because she wounded my paternal pride. But if you really love her so, we will consider the affair more closely. You poor fellow, you are quite beside yourself, and all on account of a woman! I never suffered so. I really cannot feel for you. Truly, if your mother had not wished me at that time in Rome! But she was the only one; except her, they were all alike to me. I always said one woman was only like the others. You shake your head, you are right; it is nonsense; but one always speaks so when one is vexed. Heavens! if any one permitted himself to tell me that my Mascha is no better than--but that does not belong here; we wish to speak of your affairs. I cannot believe that a girl could refuse you unless there was some one else whom she loved."
"It still seems to be the case," said Nikolai, who now, having mastered his unmanly weakness, calmly listened to his father.
"There must be some misunderstanding," says Lensky, thoughtfully. "Especially as, if your letters told the truth, she did not seem to repel you, but rather encouraged you to repeat your visits to the studio. Tell me--there were always three of you, Sonia was there--what kind of a _rôle_ did the little prude play between you?"