Book 3 Chapter 17 I Have Nothing More to Say

"What do you think of that?" said Mary Pavlovna. "In love--quite
in love. Now, that's a thing I never should have expected, that
Valdemar Simonson should be in love, and in the silliest, most
boyish manner. It is strange, and, to say the truth, it is sad,"
and she sighed.

"But she? Katusha? How does she look at it, do you think?"
Nekhludoff asked.

"She?" Mary Pavlovna waited, evidently wishing to give as exact
an answer as possible. "She? Well, you see, in spite of her past
she has one of the most moral natures--and such fine feelings.
She loves you--loves you well, and is happy to be able to do you
even the negative good of not letting you get entangled with her.
Marriage with you would be a terrible fall for her, worse than
all that's past, and therefore she will never consent to it. And
yet your presence troubles her."

"Well, what am I to do? Ought I to vanish?"

Mary Pavlovna smiled her sweet, childlike smile, and said, "Yes,
partly."

"How is one to vanish partly?"

"I am talking nonsense. But as for her, I should like to tell you
that she probably sees the silliness of this rapturous kind of
love (he has not spoken to her), and is both flattered and afraid
of it. I am not competent to judge in such affairs, you know,
still I believe that on his part it is the most ordinary man's
feeling, though it is masked. He says that this love arouses his
energy and is Platonic, but I know that even if it is
exceptional, still at the bottom it is degrading."