Then it became even worse. S. left the room for a time, and when he returned and sat down near us watching the chess, Sophie Andreevna did not see him and began talking about something and, as usual, complaining of the worries of managing the household, and said:
“When I get rid of the steward, of the thieving, of S., and ...” of something else, I don’t remember what.
Every one was overcome with shame. Tolstoi even uttered a groan. S. turned deadly white. Some one managed to whisper to Sophie Andreevna that he, S., was in the room. She was not in the least put out, and only began saying how much she regretted that she had not died under her operation.
Tolstoi glanced at S.; S. said:
“Did you want to say something, Leo Nikolaevich?”
Tolstoi was silent for a time and then said:
“You understood me.”
Then he added:
“Whom God loves, him He tries.”
It was intolerable. S. left the room quickly and went away without saying good-bye to any one.