A secret, of whatever nature it may be, always presses heavily upon the human heart. Her stratagem had the desired success; at least Bourmin fell into such a reverie, and his black eyes rested with such fire upon her, that the decisive moment seemed close at hand. The neighbors spoke about the marriage as if it were a matter already decided upon, and good Praskovia Petrovna rejoiced that her daughter had at last found a lover worthy of her.
On one occasion the old lady was sitting alone in the parlor, amusing herself with a pack of cards, when Bourmin entered the room and immediately inquired for Maria Gavrilovna.
Reply the old lady
“She is in the garden,” replied the old lady; “go out to her, and I will wait here for you.”
Bourmin went, and the old lady made the sign of the cross and thought:
“Perhaps the business will be settled to-day!”
Bourmin found Maria Gavrilovna near the pond, under a willow- tree, with a book in her hands, and in a white dress: a veritable heroine of romance.
After the first few questions and observations, Maria Gavrilovna purposely allowed the conversation to drop, thereby increasing their mutual embarrassment, from which there was no possible way of escape except only by a sudden and decisive declaration.
And this is what happened: Bourmin, feeling the difficulty of his position, declared that he had long sought for an opportunity to open his heart to her, and requested a moment`s attention. Maria Gavrilovna closed her book and cast down her eyes, as a sign of compliance with his request.
“I love you,” said Bourmin. “I love you passionately”
Maria Gavrilovna blushed and lowered her head still more. “I have acted imprudently in accustoming myself to the sweet pleasure of seeing and hearing you daily” (Maria Gavrilovna recalled to mind the first letter of St. Preux.)
“But it is now too late to resist my fate; the remembrance of you, your dear incomparable image, will henceforth be the torment and the consolation of my life, but there still remains a grave duty for me to perform to reveal to you a terrible secret which will place between us an insurmountable barrier.”
“That barrier has always existed,” interrupted Maria Gavrilovna hastily. “I could never be your wife.”
“I know,” replied he calmly. “I know that you once loved, but death and three years of mourning.
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