Fyodor Dostoevsky

has any orders of merit; I bet he has the Anna in his buttonhole and

that he puts it on when he goes to dine with contractors or merchants.

He will be sure to have it for his wedding, too! Enough of him, confound

him!

"Well,... mother I don't wonder at, it's like her, God bless her, but

how could Dounia? Dounia darling, as though I did not know you! You were

nearly twenty when I saw you last: I understood you then. Mother writes

that 'Dounia can put up with a great deal.' I know that very well. I

knew that two years and a half ago, and for the last two and a half

years I have been thinking about it, thinking of just that, that 'Dounia

can put up with a great deal.' If she could put up with Mr. Svidrigailov

and all the rest of it, she certainly can put up with a great deal. And

now mother and she have taken it into their heads that she can put up

with Mr. Luzhin, who propounds the theory of the superiority of

wives raised from destitution and owing everything to their husband's

bounty--who propounds it, too, almost at the first interview. Granted

that he 'let it slip,' though he is a sensible man, (yet maybe it

was not a slip at all, but he meant to make himself clear as soon as

possible) but Dounia, Dounia? She understands the man, of course, but

she will have to live with the man. Why! she'd live on black bread

and water, she would not sell her soul, she would not barter her moral

freedom for comfort; she would not barter it for all Schleswig-Holstein,

much less Mr. Luzhin's money. No, Dounia was not that sort when I knew

her and... she is still the same, of course! Yes, there's no denying,

the Svidrigailovs are a bitter pill! It's a bitter thing to spend one's

life a governess in the provinces for two hundred roubles, but I know

she would rather be a nigger on a plantation or a Lett with a German

master than degrade her soul, and her moral dignity, by binding herself

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