g of curiosity, went to
Varvara Petrovna's the day after he reached the town and gossiped to
the servants, telling them he had met Stepan Trofimovitch alone in a
village, that the latter had been seen by peasants walking by himself
on the high road, and that he had set off for Spasov by way of Ustyevo
accompanied by Sofya Matveyevna. As Varvara Petrovna was, for her
part, in terrible anxiety and had done everything she could to find her
fugitive friend, she was at once told about Anisim. When she had heard
his story, especially the details of the departure for Ustyevo in a cart
in the company of some Sofya Matveyevna, she instantly got ready and set
off post-haste for Ustyevo herself.

Her stern and peremptory voice resounded through the cottage; even the
landlord and his wife were intimidated. She had only stopped to question
them and make inquiries, being persuaded that Stepan Trofimovitch must
have reached Spasov long before. Learning that he was still here and
ill, she entered the cottage in great agitation.

"Well, where is he? Ah, that's you!" she cried, seeing Sofya Matveyevna,
who appeared at that very instant in the doorway of the next room. "I
can guess from your shameless face that it's you. Go away, you vile
hussy! Don't let me find a trace of her in the house! Turn her out, or
else, my girl, I'll get you locked up for good. Keep her safe for a time
in another house. She's been in prison once already in the town; she can
go back there again. And you, my good man, don't dare to let anyone in
while I am here, I beg of you. I am Madame Stavrogin, and I'll take the
whole house. As for you, my dear, you'll have to give me a full account
of it all."

The familiar sounds overwhelmed Stepan Trofimovitch. He began to
tremble. But she had already stepped behind the screen. With flashing
eyes she drew up a chair with her foot, and, sinking back in it, she
shouted to Dasha:

"Go away for a time! Stay in the other room. Why are you so inquisitive?
And shut the door properly after you."

For some time she gazed in silence with a sort of predatory look into
his frightened face.

"Well, how are you getting on, Stepan Trofimovitch? So you've been
enjoying yourself?" broke from her with ferocious irony.

_"Chere,"_ Stepan Trofimovitch faltered, not knowing what he was saying,
"I've learnt to know real life in Russia... _et je precherai l'Evangile._"

"Oh, shameless, ungrateful man!" she wailed suddenly, clasping her