“How dare you speak so to me?” she said, with a haughtiness which was quite indescribable, replying to Nastasia’s last remark.
“You must have misunderstood what I said,” said Nastasia, in some surprise.
“If you wished to preserve your good name, why did you not give up your—your ‘guardian,’ Totski, without all that theatrical posturing?” said Aglaya, suddenly a propos of nothing.
“What do you know of my position, that you dare to judge me?” cried Nastasia, quivering with rage, and growing terribly white.
“I know this much, that you did not go out to honest work, but went away with a rich man, Rogojin, in order to pose as a fallen angel. I don’t wonder that Totski was nearly driven to suicide by such a fallen angel.”
“Silence!” cried Nastasia Philipovna. “You are about as fit to understand me as the housemaid here, who bore witness against her lover in court the other day. She would understand me better than you do.”
“Probably an honest girl living by her own toil. Why do you speak of a housemaid so contemptuously?”
“I do not despise toil; I despise you when you speak of toil.”
“If you had cared to be an honest woman, you would have gone out as a laundress.”
Both had risen, and were gazing at one another with pallid faces.