ut
hesitated to speak. Stepan Trofimovitch grasped the position at last and
introduced me.

"I know, I know," she said, "I'm delighted to meet you. Mother has
heard a great deal about you, too. Let me introduce you to Mavriky
Nikolaevitch too, he's a splendid person. I had formed a funny notion of
you already. You're Stepan Trofimovitch's confidant, aren't you?"

I turned rather red.

"Ach, forgive me, please. I used quite the wrong word: not funny at all,
but only..." She was confused and blushed. "Why be ashamed though at
your being a splendid person? Well, it's time we were going, Mavriky
Nikolaevitch! Stepan Trofimovitch, you must be with us in half an hour.
Mercy, what a lot we shall talk! Now I'm your confidante, and about
everything, _everything,_ you understand?"

Stepan Trofimovitch was alarmed at once.

"Oh, Mavriky Nikolaevitch knows everything, don't mind him!"

"What does he know?"

"Why, what do you mean?" she cried in astonishment. "Bah, why it's true
then that they're hiding it! I wouldn't believe it! And they're hiding
Dasha, too. Aunt wouldn't let me go in to see Dasha to-day. She says
she's got a headache."

"But... but how did you find out?"

"My goodness, like every one else. That needs no cunning!"

"But does every one else...?"

"Why, of course. Mother, it's true, heard it first through Alyona
Frolovna, my nurse; your Nastasya ran round to tell her. You told
Nastasya, didn't you? She says you told her yourself."

"I... I did once speak," Stepan Trofimovitch faltered, crimsoning all
over, "but... I only hinted... _j'etais si nerveux et malade, et
puis_..."

She laughed.

"And your confidant didn't happen to be at hand, and Nastasya turned up.
Well that was enough! And the whole town's full of her cronies! Come, it
doesn't matter, let them know; it's all the better. Make haste and come
to us, we dine early.... Oh, I forgot," she added, sitting down again;
"listen, what sort of person is Shatov?"

"Shatov? He's the brother of Darya Pavlovna."

"I know he's her brother! What a person you are, really," she
interrupted impatiently. "I want to know what he's like; what sort of
man he is."

_"C'est un pense-creux d'ici. C'est le meilleur et le plus irascible
homme du monde."_

"I've heard that he's rather queer. But that wasn't what I meant. I've
heard that he knows three languages, one of them English, and can do
literary work. In that case I've a lot of work for him. I want some