“Well, why not? How about the husband?”
“The husband? Hm!… What do you think he's about?”
“I think it is impossible to imagine a more unhappy man.”
“You think that? Quite uselessly.… He's such a scoundrel, such a rascal, that I am not at all sorry for him.… A rascal can never be unhappy, he'll always find his way out.”
“Why do you abuse him in that way?”
“Because he's a rogue. You know that I esteemed him, that I trusted him as a friend … I and you too—in general everybody considered him an honest, respectable man who was incapable of cheating. Meanwhile he has been robbing, plundering me! Taking advantage of his position of bailiff, he disposed of my property as he liked. The only things he did not take were those that could not be moved from their places.”
I, who knew Urbenin to be a man in the highest degree honest and disinterested, jumped up as if I had been stung when I heard these words spoken by the Count, and went up to him.
“Have you caught him in the act of stealing?” I asked.
“No, but I know of his thievish tricks from trustworthy sources.”
“May I ask from what sources?”