"Listen now," said Annouschka: "your position is terrible, I grant that, and your grief is great; but your grief could be greater and your position more terrible still. If the general knew this."
"What difference would it make to me?" said Vaninka. "I shall weep for him before the whole world."
"Yes, but you will be dishonoured before the whole world! To-morrow your slaves, and the day after all St. Petersburg, will know that a man died of suffocation while concealed in your chamber. Reflect, my lady: your honour is the honour of your father, the honour of your family."
"You are right," said Vaninka, shaking her head, as if to disperse the gloomy thoughts that burdened her brain,—"you are right, but what must we do?"
"Does my lady know my brother Ivan?"
"Yes."
"We must tell him all."
"Of what are you thinking?" cried Vaninka. "To confide in a man? A man, do I say? A serf! a slave!"
"The lower the position of the serf and slave, the safer will our secret be, since he will have everything to gain by keeping faith with us."
"Your brother is a drunkard," said Vaninka, with mingled fear and disgust.