“What singing, auntie?”
“Why, we have been having those—upon my word, what do you call them—duets here. And all in Italian: chi-chi—and cha-cha—like magpies for all the world with their long drawn-out notes as if they’d pull your very soul out. That’s Panshin, and your wife too. And how quickly everything was settled; just as though it were all among relations, without ceremony. However, one may well say, even a dog will try to find a home; and won’t be lost so long as folks don’t drive it out.”
“Still, I confess I did not expect this,” rejoined Lavretsky; “there must be great effrontery to do this.”
“No, my darling, it’s not effrontery, it’s calculation, God forgive her! They say you are sending her off to Lavriky; is it true?”
“Yes, I am giving up that property to Varvara Pavlovna.”
“Has she asked you for money?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, that won’t be long in coming. But I have only now got a look at you. Are you quite well?”
“Yes.”
“Shurotchka!” cried Marfa Timofyevna suddenly, “run and tell Lisaveta Mihalovna,—at least, no, ask her... is she down-stairs?”