se. That's six days ago now. He came, stayed
five minutes, and went away. And I didn't hear of it till three days
afterwards, from Glafira, so it was a great shock to me. I sent for Lise
directly. She laughed. 'He thought you were asleep,' she said, 'and came
in to me to ask after your health.' Of course, that's how it happened. But
Lise, Lise, mercy on us, how she distresses me! Would you believe it, one
night, four days ago, just after you saw her last time, and had gone away,
she suddenly had a fit, screaming, shrieking, hysterics! Why is it I never
have hysterics? Then, next day another fit, and the same thing on the
third, and yesterday too, and then yesterday that aberration. She suddenly
screamed out, 'I hate Ivan Fyodorovitch. I insist on your never letting
him come to the house again.' I was struck dumb at these amazing words,
and answered, 'On what grounds could I refuse to see such an excellent
young man, a young man of such learning too, and so unfortunate?'--for all
this business is a misfortune, isn't it? She suddenly burst out laughing
at my words, and so rudely, you know. Well, I was pleased; I thought I had
amused her and the fits would pass off, especially as I wanted to refuse
to see Ivan Fyodorovitch anyway on account of his strange visits without
my knowledge, and meant to ask him for an explanation. But early this
morning Lise waked up and flew into a passion with Yulia and, would you
believe it, slapped her in the face. That's monstrous; I am always polite
to my servants. And an hour later she was hugging Yulia's feet and kissing
them. She sent a message to me that she wasn't coming to me at all, and
would never come and see me again, and when I dragged myself down to her,
she rushed to kiss me, crying, and as she kissed me, she pushed me out of
the room without saying a word, so I couldn't find out what was the
matter. Now, dear Alexey Fyodorovitch, I rest all my hopes on you, and, of
course, my whole life is in your hands. I simply beg you to go to Lise and
find out everything from her, as you alone can, and come back and tell
me--me, her mother, for you understand it will be the death of me, simply
the death of me, if this goes on, or else I shall run away. I can stand no
more. I have patience; but I may lose patience, and then ... then
something awful will happen. Ah, dear me! At last, Pyotr Ilyitch!" cried
Madame Hohlakov, beaming all over as she saw Perhotin enter the room. "You
are late, you a