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and she would have cut herself in pieces to prove
how well she understood him.
And indeed, strange as it may seem, Tania
did understand Dostojevsky. She guessed his
warm and tender feelings, she honoured him,
not only on account of his genius, but because of
his sufferings. His originality captivated her
and fertilized her own imagination.
If Dostojevsky had been able to look into this
young heart, he would have been deeply touched
to see the place he occupied in it.
In the depths of her heart Tania was very much
pleased that Dostojevsky appeared less infatuated
with Aniuta than he had been at first, and yet
she was ashamed of this feeling, as if it were a
kind of treason.
Fedor Michajlovitsch called Tania his little
friend, and he would even commend her outward
appearance at the expense of her sister.
‘You think you are good-looking,’ he would
say; ‘I can assure you, your sister will be much
prettier than you some day. Her face is much
more expressive, and then she has a pair of
genuine gipsy-eyes! You — why, you have a
rather pleasant little German face, that’s
all.’
Aniuta smiled contemptuously; but Tania
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