“Only, of course that’s not nearly your worst action,” said the actress, with evident dislike in her face.
“That was a psychological phenomenon, not an action,” remarked Totski.
“And what about the maid?” asked Nastasia Philipovna, with undisguised contempt.
“Oh, she was turned out next day, of course. It’s a very strict household, there!”
“And you allowed it?”
“I should think so, rather! I was not going to return and confess next day,” laughed Ferdishenko, who seemed a little surprised at the disagreeable impression which his story had made on all parties.
“How mean you were!” said Nastasia.
“Bah! you wish to hear a man tell of his worst actions, and you expect the story to come out goody-goody! One’s worst actions always are mean. We shall see what the general has to say for himself now. All is not gold that glitters, you know; and because a man keeps his carriage he need not be specially virtuous, I assure you, all sorts of people keep carriages. And by what means?”
In a word, Ferdishenko was very angry and rapidly forgetting himself; his whole face was drawn with passion. Strange as it may appear, he had expected much better success for his story. These little errors of taste on Ferdishenko’s part occurred very frequently. Nastasia trembled with rage, and looked fixedly at him, whereupon he relapsed into alarmed silence. He realized that he had gone a little too far.
“Had we not better end this game?” asked Totski.