“Mark Volokov, who is in exile here.”
“Ah! that thief. Do you know him?”
“We are friends.”
“Friends!” hissed the old man. “Tatiana Markovna, what do I hear?”
“Don’t believe him, Niel Andreevich. He does not know what he is talking about. What sort of a friend of yours is he?”
“Why, Grandmother, did he not sup here with me and spend the night? Didn’t you yourself give orders to have a soft bed made up for him?”
“Boris Pavlovich, for pity’s sake, be silent,” whispered his aunt angrily.
But Tychkov was already looking at her with amazement, the ladies with sympathy, while the men stared and the young girls drew closer to one another. Vera looked round the company, thanking Raisky by a friendly glance, and Marfinka hid behind her aunt.
“What a confession! You admitted this Barabbas under your roof,” said Niel Andreevich.
“Not I, Niel Andreevich. Borushka brought him in at night, and I did not even know who was sleeping in his room.”