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It was Liputin indeed who arranged it with the help of the lame teacher who had been at the meeting at Virginsky's. But Karmazinov had given the idea and had, it was said, meant to dress up and to take a special and prominent part in it. The quadrille was made up of six couples of masked figures, who were not in fancy dress exactly, for their clothes were like every one else's.
To my surprise he had visitors with him Alexey Nilitch, and another gentleman I hardly knew, one Shigalov, the brother of Virginsky's wife. This gentleman must, I think, have been staying about two months in the town; I don't know where he came from. I had only heard that he had written some sort of article in a progressive Petersburg magazine.
Shatov ran like a hurricane to Virginsky's house, cursing the distance and feeling it endless. He had to knock a long time at Virginsky's; every one had been asleep a long while. But Shatov did not scruple to bang at the shutters with all his might. The dog chained up in the yard dashed about barking furiously. The dogs caught it up all along the street, and there was a regular babel of barking.
My wife has come back. I'll fetch the candle." When he returned with the candle he found a young officer standing there; he did not know his name but he had seen him before. "Erkel," said the lad, introducing himself. "You've seen me at Virginsky's." "I remember; you sat writing. Listen," said Shatov in sudden excitement, going up to him frantically, but still talking in a whisper.
There were only three ladies in the room: the lady of the house, her eyebrowless sister, and Virginsky's sister, a girl who had just arrived from Petersburg.
They'll be your slaves, they won't dare to rebel or call you to account. Ha ha ha!" "But you... you shall pay for those words," Pyotr Stepanovitch thought to himself, "and this very evening, in fact. You go too far." This or something like this must have been Pyotr Stepanovitch's reflection. They were approaching Virginsky's house.
I have an idea that the above-mentioned members of the first quintet were disposed to suspect that among the guests of Virginsky's that evening some were members of other groups, unknown to them, belonging to the same secret organisation and founded in the town by the same Verhovensky; so that in fact all present were suspecting one another, and posed in various ways to one another, which gave the whole party a very perplexing and even romantic air.
Of the latter, one very young artillery officer who had only just come from a military training school, a silent lad who had not yet made friends with anyone, turned up now at Virginsky's with a pencil in his hand, and, scarcely taking any part in the conversation, continually made notes in his notebook. Everybody saw this, but every one pretended not to.
"Why are you knocking and what do you want?" Shatov heard at the window at last Virginsky's gentle voice, betraying none of the resentment appropriate to the "outrage." The shutter was pushed back a little and the casement was opened. "Who's there, what scoundrel is it?" shrilled a female voice which betrayed all the resentment appropriate to the "outrage."
To Virginsky's direct question, "Should they go or not?" he began suddenly waving his hands again, entreating him to let him alone, and saying that it was not his business, and that he knew nothing about it. Virginsky returned home dejected and greatly alarmed.
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