"But you make God knows what out of a most ordinary matter!" cried Varya.
"I told you: 'a gossip and a little brat,' " said Ganya.
"If you please, Varvara Ardalionovna, I shall continue.
Of course, I can neither love nor respect the prince, but he is decidedly a kind man, though ... a ridiculous one.
But I have absolutely no reason to hate him; I remained impassive when your brother incited me against the prince; I precisely counted on having a good laugh at the denouement.
I knew your brother would let things slip and miss the mark in the highest degree.
And so it happened . . . I'm ready to spare him now, but solely out of respect for you, Varvara Ardalionovna.
But, having explained to you that it is not so easy to catch me on a hook, I will also explain to you why I wanted so much to make a fool of your brother.
Know that I did it out of hatred, I confess it frankly.
In dying (because I shall die all the same, even though I've grown fatter, as you assure me), in dying, I have felt that I would go to paradise incomparably more peacefully if I managed to make a fool out of at least one of that numberless sort of people who have hounded me all my life, whom I have hated all my life, and of whom your much-esteemed brother serves as such a vivid representation.
I hate you, Gavrila Ardalionovich, solely because—this may seem astonishing to you—solely because you are the type and embodiment, the personification and apex of the most impudent, the most self-satisfied, the most vulgar and vile ordinariness!
You are a puffed-up ordinariness, an unquestioning and Olympianly calm ordinariness; you are the routine of routines!
Not the least idea of your own will ever be embodied in your mind or in your heart.
But you are infinitely envious; you are firmly convinced that you are the greatest of geniuses, but all the same, doubt visits you occasionally in your darkest moments, and you become angry and envious.
Oh, there are still dark spots on your horizon; they will go away when you become definitively stupid, which is not far off; but all the same a long and diverse path lies ahead of you, I do not say a cheerful one, and I'm glad of that.
First of all, I predict to you that you will not attain a certain person ..."
"No, this is unbearable!" Varya cried out.
"Will you ever finish, you disgusting little stinker?"
Ganya was pale, trembling, and silent.
Ippolit stopped, looked at him intently and with relish, shifted his gaze to Varya, grinned, bowed, and left without adding a single word.
Gavrila Ardalionovich could justly complain of his fate and ill luck.
For some time Varya did not dare to address him, did not even glance at him, as he paced by her with big strides; finally, he went to the window and stood with his back to her.
Varya was thinking about the proverb: every stick has two ends.
There was noise again upstairs.
"Are you leaving?" Ganya suddenly turned, hearing her get up from her seat.
"Wait. Look at this."
He went over to her and flung down on the chair before her a small piece of paper folded like a little note
"Lord!" Varya cried and clasped her hands.
There were exactly seven lines in the note:
Gavrila Ardalionovich!
Being convinced that you are kindly disposed towards me, I venture to ask your advice in a matter that is of importance for me.
I would like to meet you tomorrow, at exactly seven o'clock in the morning, by the green bench.
It is not far from our dacha.
Varvara Ardalionovna, who must accompany you without fail, knows the place very well.
A.E.
"Try figuring her out after that!" Varvara Ardalionovna spread her arms.
Much as Ganya would have liked to swagger at that moment, he simply could not help showing his triumph, especially after such humiliating predictions from Ippolit.
A self-satisfied smile shone openly on his face, and Varya herself became all radiant with joy.
"And that on the very day when they're announcing the engagement!
Try figuring her out after that!"
"What do you think she's going to talk about tomorrow?" asked Ganya.
"That makes no difference, the main thing is that she wishes to see you for the first time after six months.
Listen to me, Ganya: whatever there is to it, however it turns out, know that this is important!
It's all too important!
Don't swagger again, don't miss the mark again, but watch out you don't turn coward either!
Could she have failed to grasp why I dragged myself there for half a year?
And imagine: she didn't say a word to me today, didn't show a thing.
I sneaked in to see them, the old woman didn't know I was sitting with them, otherwise she might have chased me out.
I risked that for you, to find out at all costs ..."
Shouting and noise again came from overhead; several people were going down the stairs.