The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

but, on the contrary, she seemed to rejoice that she was at last able to talk to someone in an open and friendly manner. She confessed that she herself had long wanted to ask for friendly advice, that only pride had stood in her way, but that now that the ice was broken, there could be nothing better. At first with a sad smile, but then laughing cheerfully and playfully, she admitted that at any rate there could be no question of her earlier storms; that she had long ago partly altered her view of things, and that although she had not altered in her heart, she was still compelled to accept many things as facts that had been accomplished; what was done was done, what was past was past, so that she even found it strange that Afanasy Ivanovich still continued to be so alarmed. Here she turned to Ivan Fyodorovich and, with a look of the most profound respect, declared that she had long heard a very great deal about his daughters and had long grown accustomed to respecting them deeply and sincerely. The very thought that she might be in any way at all useful to them, would, it seemed, have made her happy and proud. It was true that she felt wretched and low just now, very low; Afanasy Ivanovich had guessed her dreams; she would have liked to resurrect herself, if not in love then in a family, conscious of a new goal; but of Gavrila Ardalionovich she could say almost nothing. It seemed to be true that he loved her; she felt that she herself could fall in love with him, if she could believe in the firmness of his affection; but he was very young, even if he was sincere; it was hard to make a decision. What appealed to her most, however, was the fact that he was in work, that he toiled and supported his family alone. She had heard that he was a man of energy and pride, wanted a career, wanted to make his mark. She had also heard that Nina Alexandrovna Ivolgina, Gavrila Ardalionovich’s mother, was a magnificent and in the highest degree estimable woman; that his sister, Varvara Ardalionovna, was a very remarkable and energetic girl; she had heard much about her from Ptitsyn. She had heard that they were cheerfully enduring their misfortunes; she would very much have liked to make their acquaintance, but there was a question as to whether they would welcome her into their family. On the whole, she would not say anything against the possibility of this marriage, but she really needed to think about it carefully; she would prefer it if they did not hurry her. As for the seventy-five thousand — therewas no need for Afanasy Ivanovich to be so embarrassed about speaking of it. She knew the value of money and would, of course, take it. She was grateful to Afanasy Ivanovich for his tact, for not speaking of it even to the general, let alone to Gavrila Ardalionovich, but then why should he not know of it in advance? She had no reason to be ashamed on account of this money, on entering their family. At any rate, she had no intention of asking anyone for forgiveness for anything, and wanted them to know that. She would not marry Gavrila Ardalionovich until she was quite certain that neither he nor his family had any hidden thoughts in her regard. At all events, she did not consider that she was to blame for anything, and it would be better if Gavrila Ardalionovich knew on what basis she had been living in St Petersburg these last five years, in what relation to Afanasy Ivanovich, and how much of a fortune she had put together. Finally, if she were to accept this capital now, it was in no way as payment for her maidenly disgrace, for which she was not to blame, but simply as recompense for a corrupted destiny.
    Towards the end, so excited and irritable did she become as she set forth all this (which was, however, so natural), that General Yepanchin was quite satisfied and considered the matter finished; but even now the alarmed Totsky did not quite believe in it, and for a long time feared that a serpent might lurk beneath the flowers. But the