well, what's the good, i love vershinin. don't say it. i don't want to hear it. oh, what's to be done? i thought he was strange at first and then i started to pity him and then i began to love him, love everything about him, his voice, his talk, his misfortunes, his two little girls. nevertheless, i don't want to hear it. you can say any nonsense you'd like, i'm not listening. oh olya, you're stupid. if i love him, that's my fate. that's my destiny. he loves me too. it's all rather frightening, isn't it? it's not a good thing, is it? oh my dear, how are we going to live through the rest of our lives? what's going to become of us? when you read a novel, everything in it seems so old and obvious. but when you fall in love yourself you suddenly discover that you don't know anything and you've got to make your own decisions. oh my dear sisters, my dear sisters, i've confessed it all to you and now i'll be quiet. i'll be like that madman in the story by gogol, silence, silence, silence. well, what do you want? i don't understand you. and i've told you 10 times already