“Go to hell!” Shatov roared suddenly.
“S-s-slave! Bond-slave, and your sister’s a slave, a bondswoman … a th … th … ief!”
“And you sold your sister.”
“That’s a lie! I put up with the libel though. I could with one word … do you understand what she is?”
“What?” Shatov at once drew near the door inquisitively.
“But will you understand?”
“Yes, I shall understand, tell me what?”
“I’m not afraid to say! I’m never afraid to say anything in public!…”
“You not afraid? A likely story,” said Shatov, taunting him, and nodding to me to listen.
“Me afraid?”