n they are abusing one another?"

We were silent again for a minute.

_"Cher,"_ he concluded at last, getting up quickly, "do you know this is
bound to end in something?"

"Of course," said I.

"_Vous ne comprenez pas. Passons._ But... usually in our world things come
to nothing, but this will end in something; it's bound to, it's bound
to!"

He got up, and walked across the room in violent emotion, and coming
back to the sofa sank on to it exhausted.

On Friday morning, Pyotr Stepanovitch went off somewhere in the
neighbourhood, and remained away till Monday. I heard of his departure
from Liputin, and in the course of conversation I learned that the
Lebyadkins, brother and sister, had moved to the riverside quarter.
"I moved them," he added, and, dropping the Lebyadkins, he suddenly
announced to me that Lizaveta Nikolaevna was going to marry Mavriky
Nikolaevitch, that, although it had not been announced, the engagement
was a settled thing. Next day I met Lizaveta Nikolaevna out riding with
Mavriky Nikolaevitch; she was out for the first time after her illness.
She beamed at me from the distance, laughed, and nodded in a very
friendly way. I told all this to Stepan Trofimovitch; he paid no
attention, except to the news about the Lebyadkins.

And now, having described our enigmatic position throughout those eight
days during which we knew nothing, I will pass on to the description of
the succeeding incidents of my chronicle, writing, so to say, with full
knowledge, and describing things as they became known afterwards, and
are clearly seen to-day. I will begin with the eighth day after that
Sunday, that is, the Monday evening--for in reality a "new scandal"
began with that evening.

III

It was seven o'clock in the evening. Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch was sitting
alone in his study--the room he had been fond of in old days. It was
lofty, carpeted with rugs, and contained somewhat heavy old-fashioned
furniture. He was sitting on the sofa in the corner, dressed as though
to go out, though he did not seem to be intending to do so. On the table
before him stood a lamp with a shade. The sides and corners of the big
room were left in shadow. His eyes looked dreamy and concentrated,
not altogether tranquil; his face looked tired and had grown a little
thinner. He really was ill with a swollen face; but the story of a tooth
having been knocked out was an exaggeration. One had been loosened, but
it had grown into its pl