There was silence for a moment. The prince was taken aback by the suddenness of this last reply, and did not know to what he should attribute it.
“I don’t love you a bit!” she said suddenly, just as though the words had exploded from her mouth.
The prince did not answer, and there was silence again. “I love Gavrila Ardalionovitch,” she said, quickly; but hardly audibly, and with her head bent lower than ever.
“That is not true,” said the prince, in an equally low voice.
“What! I tell stories, do I? It is true! I gave him my promise a couple of days ago on this very seat.”
The prince was startled, and reflected for a moment.
“It is not true,” he repeated, decidedly; “you have just invented it!”
“You are wonderfully polite. You know he is greatly improved. He loves me better than his life. He let his hand burn before my very eyes in order to prove to me that he loved me better than his life!”
“He burned his hand!”
“Yes, believe it or not! It’s all the same to me!”