“Yes, to-day and yesterday I have had violent pains in my legs and I slept little during the night....”
Tikhon stopped. His visitor suddenly fell into a vague reverie. The silence lasted long, about two minutes.
“You were watching me?” he suddenly asked with anxiety and suspicion.
“I looked at you, and was reminded of the expression on your mother’s face. Externally unlike, there is much inner, spiritual resemblance.”
“There is no resemblance at all, certainly no spiritual—absolutely none!” Nikolai Vsevolodovich grew again uneasy for no reason and too persistent without knowing why. “You say this just ... out of pity for my state,”[[8]] he said without thinking. “Ah! does my mother come and see you?”
“She does.”
“I didn’t know. She never told me. Does she come often?”
“Nearly every month, sometimes oftener.”
“I never, never heard of that. I did not know.” He seemed terribly alarmed by that fact. “And she, of course, told you that I am mad,” he broke out again.
“No, not exactly that you are mad—though, I’ve heard that notion too, but from others.”