“Enough, afterwards, leave it for the moment I beg you. Oh, I was quite right to let you speak!”
“And note this, Varvara Petrovna,” Pyotr Stepanovitch said hastily. “Could Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch have explained all this just now in answer to your question, which was perhaps too peremptory?”
“Oh, yes, it was.”
“And wasn’t I right in saying that in some cases it’s much easier for a third person to explain things than for the person interested?”
“Yes, yes … but in one thing you were mistaken, and, I see with regret, are still mistaken.”
“Really, what’s that?”
“You see.… But won’t you sit down, Pyotr Stepanovitch?”
“Oh, as you please. I am tired indeed. Thank you.” He instantly moved up an easy chair and turned it so that he had Varvara Petrovna on one side and Praskovya Ivanovna at the table on the other, while he faced Lebyadkin, from whom he did not take his eyes for one minute.
“You are mistaken in calling this eccentricity.…”
“Oh, if it’s only that.…”