RUDIN
sincere, we regard as impertinent and disingenuous and indiscreet. . . . What is clear and simple to you, is involved and obscure to us. . . . You boast of what we conceal. . . . How are we to understand you! Excuse me, I can neither regard you as a friend, nor will I give you my hand. . . . That is petty, perhaps, but I am only a petty person.’
Rudin took his hat from the window seat.
‘Sergeï Pavlitch!’ he said sorrowfully, ‘goodbye; I was mistaken in my expectations. My visit certainly was rather a strange one . . . but I had hoped that you . . . (Volintsev made a movement of impatience). . . . Excuse me, I will say no more of this. Reflecting upon it all, I see indeed, you are right, you could not have behaved otherwise. Good-bye, and allow me, at least once more, for the last time, to assure you of the purity of my intentions. . . . I am convinced of your discretion.’
‘That is too much!’ cried Volintsev, shaking with anger, ‘I never asked for your confidence; and so you have no right whatever to reckon on my discretion!’
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