“Ah, yes!” Lichonin recollected: “It’s Alexandra who has inspired her with such a terror. My, but I’ll make it hot for this old lizard! Well, let’s go, Liubochka.”
She timidly, in some sidelong way, put out her hand to each one, folding it like a little spade; and walked out under the escort of Lichonin.
After several minutes he returned and sat down at his place. He felt that something had been said about him during his absence, and he ran his eyes uneasily over his comrades. Then, putting his hands on the table, he began:
“Gentlemen, I know that you’re all good, close friends,” he gave a quick and sidelong look at Simanovsky, “and responsive people. I heartily beg of you to come to my aid. The deed was done by me in a hurry—this I must confess—but done through a sincere, pure inclination of the heart.”
“And that’s the main thing,” put in Soloviev.
“It’s absolutely all one to me what acquaintances and strangers will begin saying about me; but from my intention to save—pardon the fool word, which slipped out—to encourage, to sustain this girl, I will not decline. Of course, I’m able to rent an inexpensive, small room for her; to give her something for board at first; but what’s to be done further—that’s what presents difficulties to me. The matter, of course, isn’t one of money, which I’d always find for her; but, then, to compel her to eat, drink, and with all that to do nothing—that would mean to condemn her to idleness, indifference, apathy; and you know what the end will be then. Therefore, we must think of some occupation for her. And that’s the very matter which we must exert our brains about. Make an effort, gentlemen; advise something.”
“We must know what she’s fitted for,” said Simanovsky. “For she must have been doing something before getting into the house.”
Lichonin, with an air of hopelessness, spread out his hands.
“Almost nothing. She can sew just the least bit, just like any country lass. Why, she wasn’t fifteen when some government clerk led her astray. She can sweep up a room, wash a little, and, if you will, cook cabbage soup and porridge. Nothing more, it seems.”
“Rather little,” said Simanovsky, and clacked his tongue.