I was surprised at his wanting to talk; I made up my mind to take advantage of the opportunity. “There were unpleasant misunderstandings this morning,” I observed.
He scowled.
“That’s foolishness; that’s great nonsense. All this is nonsense because Lebyadkin is drunk. I did not tell Liputin, but only explained the nonsense, because he got it all wrong. Liputin has a great deal of fantasy, he built up a mountain out of nonsense. I trusted Liputin yesterday.”
“And me to-day?” I said, laughing.
“But you see, you knew all about it already this morning; Liputin is weak or impatient, or malicious or … he’s envious.”
The last word struck me.
“You’ve mentioned so many adjectives, however, that it would be strange if one didn’t describe him.”
“Or all at once.”
“Yes, and that’s what Liputin really is—he’s a chaos. He was lying this morning when he said you were writing something, wasn’t he?
“Why should he?” he said, scowling again and staring at the floor.