RUDIN
‘No, I did not communicate my intention to Natalya Alexyevna; but I know she would share my views.’
‘That’s all very fine indeed,’ Volintsev began after a short pause, drumming on the window pane with his fingers, ‘though I must confess it would have been far better if you had had rather less respect for me. I don’t care a hang for your respect, to tell you the truth; but what do you want of me now?’
‘I want nothing—or—no! I want one thing; I want you not to regard me as treacherous or hypocritical, to understand me . . . I hope that now you cannot doubt of my sincerity . . . I want us, Sergeï Pavlitch, to part as friends . . . you to give me your hand as you once did.’
And Rudin went up to Volintsev.
‘Excuse me, my good sir,’ said Volintsev, turning round and stepping back a few paces, ‘I am ready to do full justice to your intentions, all that’s very fine, I admit, very exalted, but we are simple people, we do not gild our gingerbread, we are not capable of following the flight of great minds like yours. . . . What you think
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