Fyodor Dostoevsky

seriously think that you will never grow old, that you will always be good-

looking, and that they will keep you here for ever and ever? I say nothing

of the loathsomeness of the life here .... Though let me tell you this

about it--about your present life, I mean; here though you are young

now, attractive, nice, with soul and feeling, yet you know as soon as I

came to myself just now I felt at once sick at being here with you! One

can only come here when one is drunk. But if you were anywhere else,

living as good people live, I should perhaps be more than attracted by

you, should fall in love with you, should be glad of a look from you, let

alone a word; I should hang about your door, should go down on my

knees to you, should look upon you as my betrothed and think it an

honour to be allowed to. I should not dare to have an impure thought

about you. But here, you see, I know that I have only to whistle and you

have to come with me whether you like it or not. I don't consult your

wishes, but you mine. The lowest labourer hires himself as a workman,

but he doesn't make a slave of himself altogether; besides, he knows that

he will be free again presently. But when are you free? Only think what

you are giving up here? What is it you are making a slave of? It is your

soul, together with your body; you are selling your soul which you have

no right to dispose of! You give your love to be outraged by every

drunkard! Love! But that's everything, you know, it's a priceless diamond,

it's a maiden's treasure, love--why, a man would be ready to give his

soul, to face death to gain that love. But how much is your love worth

now? You are sold, all of you, body and soul, and there is no need to strive

for love when you can have everything without love. And you know there

is no greater insult to a girl than that, do you understand? To be sure, I

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