‘Yes, yes,’ my mother cut him short, ‘do make an effort, dear Vikenty Osipitch! Only make haste, please, and I will take all responsibility on myself!’
Kvitsinsky smiled coldly. ‘One thing let me make clear, madam, beforehand; it’s impossible to reckon on any result, seeing that Mr. Harlov’s strength is so great, and he is so desperate too; he feels himself to have been very cruelly wronged!’
‘Yes, yes,’ my mother assented; ‘and it’s all that vile Souvenir’s fault! Never will I forgive him for it. Go and take the servants and set off, Vikenty Osipitch!’
‘You’d better take plenty of cord, Mr. Steward, and some fire-escape tackle,’ Zhitkov brought out in his bass—‘and if there is such a thing as a net, it would be as well to take that along too. We once had in our regiment.…’
‘Kindly refrain from instructing me, sir,’ Kvitsinsky cut him short, with an air of vexation; ‘I know what is needed without your aid.’
Zhitkov was offended, and protested that as he imagined he, too, was called upon.…
‘No, no!’ interposed my mother; ‘you’d better stop where you are.… Let Vikenty Osipitch act alone.… Make haste, Vikenty Osipitch!’
Zhitkov was still more offended, while Kvitsinsky bowed and went out.
I rushed off to the stable, hurriedly saddled my horse myself, and set off at a gallop along the road to Eskovo.