“With pleasure. I mean that if you wish Masha Mironoff to meet you at dusk, instead of tender verses, you must make her a present of a pair of earrings.”
My blood began to boil.
“Why have you such an opinion of her?” I asked, with difficulty restraining my anger.
“Because,” replied he, with a fiendish smile, “I know from experience her ways and habits.”
“You lie, scoundrel!” I exclaimed with fury. “You lie in the most shameless manner!”
Shvabrin changed colour.
“This shall not be overlooked,” said he, pressing my hand. “You shall give me satisfaction.” “With pleasure, whenever you like,” I replied, delighted beyond measure.
At that moment I was ready to tear him in pieces.
I immediately hastened to Ivan Ignatitch, and found him with a needle in his hand; in obedience to the commands of the Commandant’s wife he was stringing mushrooms for drying during the winter.
“Ah, Peter Andreitch,” said he, on seeing me, “you are welcome. May I ask on what business Heaven has brought you here?”