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Updated: June 8, 2025
He angrily pulled the bench from under me and put it back where it stood before. "He'll be coming, so we must mind he doesn't guess. It's time we were off." "Ach, you're talking of my footman," Marya Timofyevna laughed suddenly. "You're afraid of him. Well, good-bye, dear visitors, but listen for one minute, I've something to tell you.
"You've been to see Shatov too.... You mean to make it known about Marya Timofyevna," Pyotr Stepanovitch muttered, running after him, and, as though not thinking of what he was doing he clutched at his shoulder. Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch shook his hand off and turned round quickly to him with a menacing scowl. Pyotr Stepanovitch looked at him with a strange, prolonged smile.
Only don't you go sitting of nights with any animals of that sort; don't break my old heart, or else you'll see I'm not all fondness I can bite too... a widower!" Marfa Timofyevna went off, and Lisa sat down in a corner and began to cry. There was bitterness in her soul. She had not deserved such humiliation.
I want to see what it will be like." Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch ground his teeth, and muttered something to himself. "Enough," he said, striking the table with his open hand. "I beg you to listen to me, Marya Timofyevna. Do me the favour to concentrate all your attention if you can. You're not altogether mad, you know!" he broke out impatiently. "Tomorrow I shall make our marriage public.
But Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch pulled himself together; his face changed in one instant, and he went up to the table with the most cordial and amiable smile. "I'm sorry, Marya Timofyevna, I frightened you coming in suddenly when you were asleep," he said, holding out his hand to her. The sound of his caressing words produced their effect.
Varvara Petrovna started, and drew herself up in her chair. "I'm not your aunt. What are you thinking of?" Marya Timofyevna, not expecting such an angry outburst, began trembling all over in little convulsive shudders, as though she were in a fit, and sank back in her chair. "I... I... thought that was the proper way," she faltered, gazing open-eyed at Varvara Petrovna. "Liza called you that."
Stavrogin waited a moment and then began. "I've heard that you have some influence on Marya Timofyevna, and that she was fond of seeing you and hearing you talk. Is that so?" "Yes... she used to listen..." said Shatov, confused. "Within a day or two I intend to make a public announcement of our marriage here in the town." "Is that possible?" Shatov whispered, almost with horror.
Stavrogin watched him, wondering. "I've no reason to send Marya Timofyevna away." "Perhaps you don't even want to," Pyotr Stepanovitch smiled ironically. "Perhaps I don't." "In short, will there be the money or not?" he cried with angry impatience, and as it were peremptorily, to Stavrogin. The latter scrutinised him gravely. "There won't be the money." "Look here, Stavrogin!
I'll settle Marya Timofyevna to-morrow!... Without the money, and to-morrow I'll bring you Liza. Will you have Liza to-morrow?" "Is he really mad?" Stavrogin wondered smiling. The front door was opened. "Stavrogin is America ours?" said Verhovensky, seizing his hand for the last time. "What for?" said Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch, gravely and sternly.
Varvara Pavlovna soon realised that there was nothing to be got out of this old lady, and gave up trying to talk to her. To make up for this, Marya Dmitrievna became still more cordial to her guest; her aunt's discourtesy irritated her. Marfa Timofyevna, however, did not only avoid looking at Varvara Pavlovna; she did not look at Lisa either, though her eyes seemed literally blazing.
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