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Every one got up and went out on to the terrace, except Gedeonovsky, who quietly took his departure. During the whole of Lavretsky's conversation with Marya Dmitrievna, Panshin, and Marfa Timofyevna, he sat in a corner, blinking attentively, with an open mouth of childish curiosity; now he was in haste to spread the news of the new arrival through the town.
Shatov did not lift up his head, and Stepan Trofimovitch was overwhelmed with confusion as though it were all his fault; the perspiration stood out on his temples. Her eyes darted keenly from Varvara Petrovna to the cripple and back again; her lips were drawn into a smile, but not a pleasant one. Varvara Petrovna saw that smile. Meanwhile Marya Timofyevna was absolutely transported.
He knows, to be sure, that I ought rather to pity them than they me." "You seem to be very much offended with them, Marya Timofyevna?" "I? Oh, no," she smiled with simple-hearted mirth. "Not at all. I looked at you all, then. You were all angry, you were all quarrelling. They meet together, and they don't know how to laugh from their hearts. So much wealth and so little gaiety. It all disgusts me.
Then she sat down again in silence, but there was a nervous twitching in her face, as though she had touched a viper. While this scene was taking place between Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch and Marya Timofyevna every one was speechless with amazement; one could have heard a fly; but as soon as they had gone out, every one began suddenly talking.
"Mais, chere et excellente amie, dans quelle inquietude..." Stepan Trofimovitch exclaimed in a dying voice. "Ach! French! French! I can see at once that it's the highest society," cried Marya Timofyevna, clapping her hands, ecstatically preparing herself to listen to a conversation in French. Varvara Petrovna stared at her almost in dismay. We all sat in silence, waiting to see how it would end.
All that he had told the others about it was a lie: he had never seen the document nor heard of it, but he thought it as certain as that twice two makes four. It seemed to him that what had happened the death of Liza, the death of Marya Timofyevna would be too much for Shatov, and that he would make up his mind at once. Who knows? perhaps he had grounds for supposing it.
He turned it upon the profits of sugar-boiling, on which he had lately read two French pamphlets, and with modest composure undertook to expound their contents, without mentioning, however, a single word about the source of his information. "Good God, it is Fedya!" came through the half-opened door the voice of Marfa Timofyevna in the next room.
As on the day before, sounds reached him from the adjoining rooms through the walls, voices, the jingle of glasses and teaspoons. . . . Marya Timofyevna was gaily telling Father Sisoy some story with quaint turns of speech, while the latter answered in a grumpy, ill-humoured voice: "Bother them! Not likely! What next!"
I note here that I may not forget it that he did purposely go that evening to the other end of the town to see Marya Timofyevna, whom he had not seen for some time. He found her in excellent health and spirits and Lebyadkin dead drunk, asleep on the sofa in the first room. This was at nine o'clock. He told me so himself next day when we met for a moment in the street.
'The new mistress. 'What mistress? 'Oh, that bought us. Your honour does not know her; Alyona Timofyevna; she is so fat ... not young. 'Why did she decide to make you a fisherman? 'God knows. She came to us from her estate in Tamboff, gave orders for all the household to come together, and came out to us.
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