The mysterious, enchanting Kitty herself could not love such an

ugly person as he conceived himself to be, and, above all, such

an ordinary, in no way striking person. Moreover, his attitude

to Kitty in the past--the attitude of a grown-up person to a

child, arising from his friendship with her brother--seemed to

him yet another obstacle to love. An ugly, good-natured man, as

he considered himself, might, he supposed, be liked as a friend;

but to be loved with such a love as that with which he loved

Kitty, one would need to be a handsome and, still more, a

distinguished man.

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He had heard that women often did care for ugly and ordinary men,

but he did not believe it, for he judged by himself, and he could

not himself have loved any but beautiful, mysterious, and

exceptional women.

But after spending two months alone in the country, he was

convinced that this was not one of those passions of which he had

had experience in his early youth; that this feeling gave him not

an instant's rest; that he could not live without deciding the

question, would she or would she not be his wife, and that his

despair had arisen only from his own imaginings, that he had no

sort of proof that he would be rejected. And he had now come to

Moscow with a firm determination to make an offer, and get

married if he were accepted. Or...he could not conceive what

would become of him if he were rejected.




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