“People have talked about you to me, and here I’ve heard … I know that you are very clever and … are working for the cause … and think a great deal. Pyotr Stepanovitch Verhovensky spoke about you in Switzerland,” she added hurriedly. “He’s a very clever man, isn’t he?”
Shatov stole a fleeting, momentary glance at her, but dropped his eyes again.
“Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch told me a great deal about you, too.”
Shatov suddenly turned red.
“But here are the newspapers.” Liza hurriedly picked up from a chair a bundle of newspapers that lay tied up ready. “I’ve tried to mark the facts here for selection, to sort them, and I have put the papers together … you will see.”
Shatov took the bundle.
“Take them home and look at them. Where do you live?”
“In Bogoyavlensky Street, Filipov’s house.”
“I know. I think it’s there, too, I’ve been told, a captain lives, beside you, Mr. Lebyadkin,” said Liza in the same hurried manner.
Shatov sat for a full minute with the bundle in his outstretched hand, making no answer and staring at the floor.