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said Kitty, to try Varenka.
“Yes,” answered Varenka. “They’re getting ready to go away, so I
promised to help them pack.”
“Well, I’ll come too, then.”
“No, why should you?”
“Why not? why not? why not?” said Kitty, opening her eyes wide,
and clutching at Varenka’s parasol, so as not to let her go. “No, wait a
minute; why not?”
“Oh, nothing; your father has come, and besides, they will feel
awkward at your helping.”
“No, tell me why you don’t want me to be often at the Petrovs’. You
don’t want me to—why not?”
“I didn’t say that,” said Varenka quietly.
“No, please tell me!”
“Tell you everything?” asked Varenka.
“Everything, everything!” Kitty assented.
“Well, there’s really nothing of any consequence; only that Mihail
Alexeyevitch” (that was the artist’s name) “had meant to leave earlier,
and now he doesn’t want to go away,” said Varenka, smiling.
“Well, well!” Kitty urged impatiently, looking darkly at Varenka.
“Well, and for some reason Anna Pavlovna told him that he didn’t
want to go because you are here. Of course, that was nonsense; but
there was a dispute over it—over you. You know how irritable these
sick people are.”
Kitty, scowling more than ever, kept silent, and Varenka went on
speaking alone, trying to soften or soothe her, and seeing a storm com-
ing—she did not know whether of tears or of words.
“So you’d better not go.... You understand; you won’t be of-
fended?...”
“And it serves me right! And it serves me right!” Kitty cried quickly,
snatching the parasol out of Varenka’s hand, and looking past her friend’s
face.
Varenka felt inclined to smile, looking at her childish fury, but she
was afraid of wounding her.
“How does it serve you right? I don’t understand,” she said.
“It serves me right, because it was all sham; because it was all done
on purpose, and not from the heart. What business had I to interfere
with outsiders? And so it’s come about that I’m a cause of quarrel, and
that I’ve done what nobody asked me to do. Because it was all a sham!
a sham! a sham!.. .”
“A sham! with what object?” said Varenka gently.
“Oh, it’s so idiotic! so hateful! There was no need whatever for
me.... Nothing but sham!” she said, opening and shutting the parasol.
“But with what object?”
“To seem better to people, to myself, to God; to deceive everyone.
No! now I won’t descend to that. I’ll be bad; but anyway not a liar, a
cheat.”
“But who is a cheat?” said Varenka reproachfully. “You speak as
if...”
But Kitty was in one of her gusts of fury, and she would not let her
finish.
“I don’t talk about you, not about you at all. You’re perfection. Yes,
yes, I know you’re all perfection; but what am I to do if I’m bad? This
would never have been if I weren’t bad. So let me be what I am. I won’t
be a sham. What have I to do with Anna Pavlovna? Let them go their
way, and me go mine. I can’t be different.... And yet it’s not that, it’s not
that.”
“What is not that?” asked Varenka in bewilderment.