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He knew the town like the five fingers of his hand, but Bogoyavlensky Street was a long way off. It was past ten when he stopped at last before the locked gates of the dark old house that belonged to Filipov. The ground floor had stood empty since the Lebyadkins had left it, and the windows were boarded up, but there was a light burning in Shatov's room on the second floor.
"I believe her name's Lebyadkin," a good-natured person volunteered at last in answer to Varvara Petrovna. It was our respectable and respected merchant Andreev, a man in spectacles with a grey beard, wearing Russian dress and holding a high round hat in his hands. "They live in the Filipovs' house in Bogoyavlensky Street." "Lebyadkin? Filipovs' house?
Stepan Trofimovitch looked interrogatively at Liputin. "I'm very grateful to you for your visit. But I must confess I'm... not in a condition... just now... But allow me to ask where you are lodging." "At Filipov's, in Bogoyavlensky Street." "Ach, that's where Shatov lives," I observed involuntarily.
But the persistent vagabond did not leave him even now, though now, it is true, he did not chatter, and even respectfully kept his distance, a full step behind. They crossed the bridge like this and came out on to the river bank, turning this time to the left, again into a long deserted back street, which led to the centre of the town by a shorter way than going through Bogoyavlensky Street.
You've simply put the horse into a steam." "Voznesensky, Bogoyavlensky you ought to know all those stupid names better than I do, as you are an inhabitant; besides, you are unfair, I told you first of all Filipov's house and you declared you knew it. In any case you can have me up to-morrow in the local court, but now I beg you to let me alone." "Here, here's another five kopecks."
It was a busy day for Pyotr Stepanovitch. From Von Lembke he hastened to Bogoyavlensky Street, but as he went along Bykovy Street, past the house where Karmazinov was staying, he suddenly stopped, grinned, and went into the house. The servant told him that he was expected, which interested him, as he had said nothing beforehand of his coming.
If you've been driving me for an extra hour through these filthy streets, that's your fault, because it seems you didn't know where to find this stupid street and imbecile house. Take your thirty kopecks and make up your mind that you'll get nothing more." "Ech, lady, you told me yourself Voznesensky Street and this is Bogoyavlensky; Voznesensky is ever so far away.
Where do you live?" "In Bogoyavlensky Street, Filipov's house." "I know. I think it's there, too, I've been told, a captain lives, beside you, Mr. Lebyadkin," said Liza in the same hurried manner. Shatov sat for a full minute with the bundle in his outstretched hand, making no answer and staring at the floor. "You'd better find some one else for these jobs.
"You will have time to get out of the ship, you rat," Pyotr Stepanovitch was thinking as he went out into the street. But he really isn't stupid... and he is simply a rat escaping; men like that don't tell tales!" He ran to Filipov's house in Bogoyavlensky Street. Pyotr Stepanovitch went first to Kirillov's.
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