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He had for years despised Shatov for his "whining idiocy," as he had expressed it in former days abroad, and he was absolutely confident that he could deal with such a guileless creature, that is, keep an eye on him all that day, and put a check on him at the first sign of danger. Yet what saved "the scoundrels" for a short time was something quite unexpected which they had not foreseen....
Don't say another word! I won't have it, I won't have it!" screamed Marie. "It's impossible not to say another word, if you are not out of your mind, as I think you are in your condition. We must talk of what we want, anyway: tell me, have you anything ready? You answer, Shatov, she is incapable." "Tell me what's needed?" "That means you've nothing ready."
Ten days ago he was walking barefoot, and now I've seen hundreds in his hands. His sister has fits of some sort every day, she shrieks and he 'keeps her in order' with the whip. You must inspire a woman with respect, he says. What I can't understand is how Shatov goes on living above him. Alexey Nilitch has only been three days with them.
"And not because you believed the stupid gossip about Darya Pavlovna?" "No, no, of course not! It's nonsense! My sister told me from the very first..." Shatov said, harshly and impatiently, and even with a slight stamp of his foot. "Then I guessed right and you too guessed right," Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch went on in a tranquil voice. "You are right.
His get-up for the occasion was, by the way, extremely recherche: a shirt of batiste and embroidered, almost fit for a ball, a white tie, a new hat in his hand, new straw-coloured gloves, and even a suspicion of scent. We had hardly sat down when Shatov was shown in by the butler, obviously also by official invitation.
Shatov stood facing her at the other end of the room, which was five paces away, and listened to her timidly with a look of new life and unwonted radiance on his face. This strong, rugged man, all bristles on the surface, was suddenly all softness and shining gladness. There was a thrill of extraordinary and unexpected feeling in his soul.
"Don't trouble, Shatov will open it for me." "Ah, Shatov. Very well, good-bye." The door of the empty house in which Shatov was lodging was not closed; but, making his way into the passage, Stavrogin found himself in utter darkness, and began feeling with his hand for the stairs to the upper story. Suddenly a door opened upstairs and a light appeared.
"Goodness only knows what you're saying," I laughed. "Oh, you're a 'moderate liberal," said Shatov, smiling too. "Do you know," he went on suddenly, "I may have been talking nonsense about the 'flunkeyism of thought. You will say to me no doubt directly, 'it's you who are the son of a flunkey, but I'm not a flunkey." "I wasn't dreaming of such a thing.... What are you saying!"
Although Pyotr Stepanovitch had at the meeting invited Liputin to go with him to Kirillov's to make sure that the latter would take upon himself, at a given moment, the responsibility for the "Shatov business," yet in his interview with Kirillov he had said no word about Shatov nor alluded to him in any way probably considering it impolitic to do so, and thinking that Kirillov could not be relied upon.
I've taken ten roubles off the price, but every one knows you are a skinflint." "Come the day after to-morrow, do you hear, the day after to-morrow at twelve o'clock, and I'll give you the whole of it, that will do, won't it?" Shatov knocked furiously at the window-frame for the third time. "Give me ten roubles, and to-morrow early the other five."
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