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"Do you know what I think?" said Zherbenev, addressing himself to Doulebova. "I have seen many men in my time, I may say without boasting; and in my opinion, it is a very bad sign that he looks askance at you." "Of course!" agreed Poterina. "That is the honest truth!" "Let a man look me straight in my face," went on Zherbenev. "But the quiet ones...." Zherbenev did not finish his sentence.
She was confirmed in her suggestion by the cringing, dry-looking instructress of German. Zinaida Grigorievna turned towards Poterina in order to show favour to her hostess by her conversation, and asked her with an amused smile: "How do you like our celebrated Decadent?" The instructress tried to understand. An expression of fear showed on her flat, dull face.
Doulebova said bitingly: "Well, I don't think he laughs very often. He ought to be to your taste." "To my taste!" exclaimed Poterina with a flushed face. "What are you saying, Zinaida Grigorievna! As the old saying goes: 'The Tsar's servant has been bent into a harness arch!"
She asked timidly: "Whom do you mean, Zinaida Grigorievna?" "Whom else could I mean but Mr. Trirodov," replied Doulebova malignantly. The malice was all on Trirodov's account, but nevertheless Poterina trembled with fear. "Ah, yes, Trirodov; how then, how then...." she repeated in a worried, flustered way, and was at a loss what to say.
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