“What does he know?”
“Why, what do you mean?” she cried in astonishment. “Bah, why it’s true then that they’re hiding it! I wouldn’t believe it! And they’re hiding Dasha, too. Aunt wouldn’t let me go in to see Dasha to-day. She says she’s got a headache.”
“But … but how did you find out?”
“My goodness, like every one else. That needs no cunning!”
“But does every one else …?”
“Why, of course. Mother, it’s true, heard it first through Alyona Frolovna, my nurse; your Nastasya ran round to tell her. You told Nastasya, didn’t you? She says you told her yourself.”
“I … I did once speak,” Stepan Trofimovitch faltered, crimsoning all over, “but … I only hinted … j’étais si nerveux et malade, et puis …”
She laughed.
“And your confidant didn’t happen to be at hand, and Nastasya turned up. Well that was enough! And the whole town’s full of her cronies! Come, it doesn’t matter, let them know; it’s all the better. Make haste and come to us, we dine early.… Oh, I forgot,” she added, sitting down again; “listen, what sort of person is Shatov?”
“Shatov? He’s the brother of Darya Pavlovna.”