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Updated: June 21, 2025
"That Verhovensky is such a fellow that he may be listening to us now in your passage, perhaps, with his own ears or some one else's. Even that drunkard, Lebyadkin, was probably bound to keep an eye on you, and you on him, too, I dare say? You'd better tell me, has Verhovensky accepted your arguments now, or not?" "He has. He has said that it can be done and that I have the right... ."
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.
What he saw was almost another face. The intonation of the voice was different. Verhovensky besought, implored. He was a man from whom what was most precious was being taken or had been taken, and who was still stunned by the shock. "But what's the matter with you?" cried Stavrogin. The other did not answer, but ran after him and gazed at him with the same imploring but yet inflexible expression.
One of the things Pyotr Verhovensky came here for was to settle your business once for all, and he is fully authorised to do so, that is at the first good opportunity, to get rid of you, as a man who knows too much and might give them away.
The young man, who had been stealthily glancing at Erkel, touched his hat; Erkel made a bow. "But I say, Verhovensky, eight hours in the train is an awful ordeal. Berestov, the colonel, an awfully funny fellow, is travelling with me in the first class. He's got ideas too. He's only been here a couple of days. He's passionately fond of whist; couldn't we get up a game, eh?
Pyotr Stepanovitch did not even look at her, took the scissors, and set to work with them. Arina Prohorovna grasped that these were realistic manners, and was ashamed of her sensitiveness. People looked at one another in silence. The lame teacher looked vindictively and enviously at Verhovensky. Shigalov went on.
Why didn't you come before if you were told to?" "I followed certain instructions and was not alone." "I understand, I understand that you were not alone. Eh... hang it! But why didn't Liputin come himself?" "So I shall come for you to-morrow at exactly six o'clock in the evening, and we'll go there on foot. There will be no one there but us three." "Will Verhovensky be there?" "No, he won't.
Do you know the serfs had more self-respect than Karmazinov? Though they were beaten they always preserved their gods, which is more than Karmazinov's done." "Well, Verhovensky, this is the first time I've heard you talk, and I listen with amazement," observed Stavrogin. "So you are really not a socialist, then, but some sort of... ambitious politician?" "A scoundrel, a scoundrel!
"What business? What business?" voices exclaimed. Many people got up from their chairs. "Allow me, gentlemen, allow me," cried the lame man. "Mr. Verhovensky hasn't answered the question either; he has only asked it." The remark produced a striking effect. All looked at one another.
They all realised that the advocate of the hundred million heads theory had been driven into a corner, and waited to see what would come of it. "That was a good saying of yours, though," Verhovensky mumbled more carelessly than ever, in fact with an air of positive boredom. "Emigration is a good idea.
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