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 referring to that—not a word on delicate subjects.
Good-bye, though, you look rather green."
"I'm feverish."
"I can well believe it; you should go to bed.
By the way, there are Skoptsi here in the neighbourhood—they're curious people... of that later, though.
Ah, here's another anecdote. There's an infantry regiment here in the district.
I was drinking last Friday evening with the officers.
We've three friends among them, vous comprenez?
They were discussing atheism and I need hardly say they made short work of God.
They were squealing with delight.
By the way, Shatov declares that if there's to be a rising in Russia we must begin with atheism.
Maybe it's true.
One grizzled old stager of a captain sat mum, not saying a word. All at once he stands up in the middle of the room and says aloud, as though speaking to himself:
'If there's no God, how can I be a captain then?'
He took up his cap and went out, flinging up his hands."
"He expressed a rather sensible idea," said Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch, yawning for the third time.
"Yes?
I didn't understand it; I meant to ask you about it.
Well what else have I to tell you? The Shpigulin factory's interesting; as you know, there are five hundred workmen in it, it's a hotbed of cholera, it's not been cleaned for fifteen years and the factory hands are swindled. The owners are millionaires.
I assure you that some among the hands have an idea of the Internationale.
What, you smile?
You'll see—only give me ever so little time!
I've asked you to fix the time already and now I ask you again and then.... But I beg your pardon, I won't, I won't speak of that, don't frown.
There!" He turned back suddenly. "I quite forgot the chief thing. I was told just now that our box had come from Petersburg."
"You mean..." Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch looked at him, not understanding.
"Your box, your things, coats, trousers, and linen have come.
Is it true?"
"Yes... they said something about it this morning."
"Ach, then can't I open it at once!..."
"Ask Alexey."
"Well, to-morrow, then, will to-morrow do?
You see my new jacket, dress-coat and three pairs of trousers are with your things, from Sharmer's, by your recommendation, do you remember?"
"I hear you're going in for being a gentleman here," said Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch with a smile.
"Is it true you're going to take lessons at the riding school?"