‘That’s nerves,’ observed my mother, and she began speaking of the previous day, and referred to certain circumstances which had attended the completion of the deed of partition.…
‘To be sure, to be sure,’ Harlov interrupted her, ‘there was something of the sort … of no consequence. Only there’s something I would tell you,’ he added, hesitating—‘I was not disturbed yesterday by Souvenir’s silly words—even Mr. Attorney, though he’s no fool—even he did not trouble me; no, it was quite another person disturbed me——’ Here Harlov faltered.
‘Who?’ asked my mother.
Harlov fastened his eyes upon her: ‘Evlampia!’
‘Evlampia? Your daughter? How was that?’
‘Upon my word, madam, she was like a stone! nothing but a statue! Can it be she has no feeling? Her sister, Anna—well, she was all she should be. She’s a keen-witted creature! But Evlampia—why, I’d shown her—I must own—so much partiality! Can it be she’s no feeling for me! It’s clear I’m in a bad way; it’s clear I’ve a feeling that I’m not long for this world, since I make over everything to them; and yet she’s like a stone! she might at least utter a sound! Bows—yes, she bows, but there’s no thankfulness to be seen.’
‘There, give over,’ observed my mother, ‘we’ll marry her to Gavrila Fedulitch … she’ll soon get softer in his hands.’
Martin Petrovitch once more looked from under his brows at my mother. ‘Well, there’s Gavrila Fedulitch, to be sure! You have confidence in him, then, madam?’
‘I’ve confidence in him.’
‘Very well; you should know best, to be sure. But Evlampia, let me tell you, is like me. The character is just the same. She has the wild Cossack blood, and her heart’s like a burning coal!’