does not say a word about what happened on Sunday, and is convinced
that you will overcome everything yourself by merely making your
appearance. Upon my word! She fancies you can do anything. You're an
enigmatic and romantic figure now, more than ever you were--extremely
advantageous position. It is incredible how eager every one is to see
you. They were pretty hot when I went away, but now it is more so than
ever. Thanks again for your letter. They are all afraid of Count K. Do
you know they look upon you as a spy? I keep that up, you're not angry?"

"It does not matter."

"It does not matter; it's essential in the long run. They have their
ways of doing things here. I encourage it, of course; Yulia Mihailovna,
in the first place, Gaganov too.... You laugh? But you know I have my
policy; I babble away and suddenly I say something clever just as they
are on the look-out for it. They crowd round me and I humbug away again.
They've all given me up in despair by now: 'he's got brains but he's
dropped from the moon.' Lembke invites me to enter the service so that
I may be reformed. You know I treat him mockingly, that is, I compromise
him and he simply stares, Yulia Mihailovna encourages it. Oh, by the
way, Gaganov is in an awful rage with you. He said the nastiest things
about you yesterday at Duhovo. I told him the whole truth on the spot,
that is, of course, not the whole truth. I spent the whole day at
Duhovo. It's a splendid estate, a fine house."

"Then is he at Duhovo now?" Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch broke in suddenly,
making a sudden start forward and almost leaping up from his seat.

"No, he drove me here this morning, we returned together," said Pyotr
Stepanovitch, appearing not to notice Stavrogin's momentary excitement.
"What's this? I dropped a book." He bent down to pick up the "keepsake"
he had knocked down. 'The Women of Balzac,' with illustrations." He
opened it suddenly. "I haven't read it. Lembke writes novels too."

"Yes?" queried Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch, as though beginning to be
interested.

"In Russian, on the sly, of course, Yulia Mihailovna knows and allows
it. He's henpecked, but with good manners; it's their system. Such
strict form--such self-restraint! Something of the sort would be the
thing for us."

"You approve of government methods?"

"I should rather think so! It's the one thing that's natural and
practicable in Russia.... I won't... I won't," he cried out suddenly,
"I'm not referrin