"Yes, but ... you said that you wouldn't get offended."
"I'm not offended, and ... and it's none of your business! No, it ... it's quite funny though. I fell, into the trap, yet I'm to be blamed as well."
The bell rang. The boy dashed from his place and ran out. In a minute a lady entered the room with a little girl. It was Olga Ivanovna, Alyosha's mother. After her, hopping, humming noisily, and waving his hands, followed Alyosha.
"Of course, who is there to accuse except me?" he murmured, sniffing. "He's right, he's the injured husband."
"What's the matter?" asked Olga Ivanovna.
"What's the matter! Listen to the kind of sermon your dear husband preaches. It appears I'm a scoundrel and a murderer, I've ruined you and the children. All of you are unhappy, and only I am awfully happy! Awfully, awfully happy!"
"I don't understand, Nicolai! What is it?"
"Just listen to this young gentleman," Byelyaev said, pointing to Alyosha.
Alyosha blushed, then became pale suddenly and his whole face was twisted in fright.
"Nicolai Ilyich," he whispered loudly. "Shh!"