“It is freezing here; I do not like cold weather,” said Julie. “We must go somewhere else; but where? Wait. I’ll be right back from this shop.”
She bought a thick veil for Viérotchka. “Put it on; then you can go with me without any fear. But don’t lift your veil until we are alone! Pauline is very modest, but I don’t want that even she should see you. I am too careful of you, my child!”
In fact she herself wore her maid’s cloak and bonnet and a thick veil. When Julie got warm, she listened to all the news that Viérotchka had to tell her; then she told her in turn about her interview with Storeshnikof.
“Now, my dear child, there is no doubt that he will make you an offer. These young men are always getting over ears in love when their flirting meets no response. Do you know, my dear child, that you have treated him quite like an experienced coquette. Coquetry—I am speaking about genuine coquetry, not about foolish, stupid imitations of it, for they are disgusting, like any other imitation of a good thing—coquetry, I say, means sense and tact in the way that a woman treats a man. Therefore absolutely innocent girls act without meaning it, exactly like experienced coquettes, if only they have sense and tact. Maybe my motives will partly influence him, but the main thing is your resistance. However, he will make you an offer, and I advise you to accept it.”
“You who told me only yesterday that it was better to die than give a kiss without love?”
“My dear child, that was said in excitement: in moments of excitement it is true and good. But life is prose and calculation.”
“No! never! never! He is contemptible! this is abominable! I shall not lower myself; let him devour me; I’d sooner jump out of the window—sooner go out and beg for bread—but to give my hand to a contemptible, low man—no! it is better to die!”
Julie began to explain the advantages: “You will get rid of your mother’s persecutions; you stand in danger of being sold; he is not bad, but only a little off; a narrow man who is not bad is better than any other husband for a woman of strong character; you would be mistress of the house.”
She depicted the position of actresses, dancers, who do not love their “husbands” but reign over them: “This is the freest situation in the world for a woman, except that situation of independence and power which society might grant to a legally married woman; that is, it might give her as much independence as an actress has towards the admirer of an actress.”6
She spoke much; Viérotchka spoke much; they both got excited. Viérotchka finally became pathetic.
“You call me fanciful, you ask me what I want from life. I want neither to reign nor to be subjected; I do not want to deceive or to make pretence; I do not want to regard the opinions of others, to strive for what other people recommend to me, without I feel the need of it. I am not used to riches—for myself they are not necessary; why, then, should I seek them only because others think that they are pleasant for all people, and consequently must be pleasant for me? I have never gone into society, I have not known what it was to shine, and as yet I have no desire to do so; why, then, should I sacrifice anything for a brilliant situation, only because according to the ideas of others it is pleasant? For what I do not feel the slightest need of, I am not going to sacrifice, I do not say myself, but even my slightest caprice. I want to be independent and live in my own way; I am prepared for whatever is needful for myself; whatever is not needful I do not want. What will be necessary for me I do not know; you say, ‘I am young and inexperienced, that I shall change as time goes on,’—well, so be it; when the time comes, I shall change; but now I do not want, do not want, do not want, anything that I do not want! ‘But what do I want now?’ you ask. Well, I am sure I do not know. Do I want to love a man? I do not know! It was only yesterday morning I did not know when I got up that I was going to want to love you; and several hours before I began to love you I did not know that I could love anyone; and I did not know how I should feel when I felt love for you; and so now I do not know how I should feel to love a man; I only know that I do not want to be anybody’s slave! I want to be free! I do not want to be under obligations to anyone, so that anyone should dare to say to me, ‘You must do something for me.’ I want to do only what I have it in my heart to do, and let others do the same; I do not want to ask anything of anybody; I do not want to curtail anybody’s freedom; I want to be free myself!”
Julie listened and was lost in thought, and her face grew red; but then she could not help her face growing red when she sat near a fire. She leaped to her feet, and said in a broken voice:—
“Well, well, my child, I myself should have felt that way if I had not been ruined. But I am not corrupted by those deeds that are generally thought to ruin a woman; not by what happened to me in the past, what I endured and suffered; not because of those things was my body given over to insult; but because I was used to idleness, to luxury; because I
