"Why, my husband. Go away, go away; he'll be coming out directly ... from ... in there ... from the Polovitsyns'. Go away; for goodness' sake, go away."
"It's three weeks since the Polovitsyns moved! I know all about it!"
"Aïe!" The lady dashed downstairs. The young man overtook her.
"Who told you?" asked the lady.
"Your husband, madam, Ivan Andreyitch; he is here before you, madam...."
Ivan Andreyitch was indeed standing at the front door.
"Aïe, it's you," cried the gentleman in raccoon.
"Ah! C'est vous," cried Glafira Petrovna, rushing up to him with unfeigned delight. "Oh, dear, you can't think what has been happening to me. I went to see the Polovitsyns; only fancy ... you know they are living now by Izmailovsky Bridge; I told you, do you remember? I took a sledge from there. The horses took fright and bolted, they broke the sledge, and I was thrown out about a hundred yards from here; the coachman was taken up; I was in despair. Fortunately Monsieur Tvorogov ..."
"What!"
Monsieur Tvorogov was more like a fossil than like Monsieur Tvorogov.