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He went off to the window, to the very window in which Susanna had sat two days before, and without a word to me, he fell to reading it. I at once retired to the opposite corner of the room, and for appearance' sake took up a book; but I must own I was stealthily looking over the edge of the cover all the while at Fustov.
I see now what the whole trick was contrived for, with Susanna's marriage they would lose the pension.... Wretches! I took his hand. 'Alexander, I asked him, 'have you been to her? 'No; I came straight to you on arriving. I'll go to-morrow... early to-morrow. Things can't be left so. On no account! 'But you... love her, Alexander? Fustov seemed offended. 'Of course I love her.
But what could he say to you? Fustov crossed his arms and stood obliquely to me. He was ashamed, I saw that. 'Do you remember, he said with some effort, 'that... Viktor alluded to... a pension. That unfortunate word stuck in my head. It's the cause of everything. I began questioning him.... Well, and he 'What did he say?
He talks German with his wife. 'And why does he call himself a veteran of the year twelve? Was he in the militia, or what? 'In the militia! indeed! At the time of the fire he remained in Moscow and lost all his property.... That was all he did. 'But what did he stay in Moscow for? Fustov still went on with his turning. 'The Lord knows.
'Where are you going? I asked. 'Oh, I must find out what the idiot.... He's drunk, no doubt, God knows what.... Only don't you follow me... we shall see each other to-morrow. Good-bye! And hurriedly pressing my hand, Fustov set off towards Yar's hotel.
Fustov seemed to doubt whether Susanna were really dead. 'In the coffin. Fustov's face twitched and he dropped his eyes and softly rubbed his hands. 'Are you cold? I asked him. 'Yes, old man, I'm cold, he answered hesitatingly, and he shook his head stupidly.
'Ugh, what a low beast that boy is! cried Fustov, as soon as the door had slammed-to. His face was burning, as though from the fire, and he turned away from me. I did not question him, and soon retired. All that day I spent in speculating about Fustov, about Susanna, and about her relations. I had a vague feeling of something like a family drama.
I have a presentiment.... Please do as I say! Go at once, take a sledge.... 'Come, what nonsense! Fustov responded coolly; 'how could I go now? To-morrow morning I will be there, and everything will be cleared up. 'But, Alexander, remember, she said that she was dying, that you would not find her... And if you had seen her face!
'Why, of the most honoured Susanna Ivanovna, of course! Viktor lolled still more comfortably, put his arm up round his head, gazed at his own hand, and cleared his throat hoarsely. I glanced at Fustov. He merely shrugged his shoulders, as though giving me to understand that it was no use talking to such a dolt.
I stood near him, and I am bound to confess, not the slightest sympathy was excited in me by those incontestably sincere sobs. I simply marvelled that Fustov could cry like that, and it seemed to me that now I knew what a small person he was, and that I should, in his place, have acted quite differently. What's one to make of it?
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