"What, aunty?"
"Art thou an honourable man?"
"What?"
"I ask thee: art thou an honourable man?"
"I hope so."
"H'm. But give me thy word of honour that thou art an honourable man."
"Certainly.—But why?"
"I know why. Yes, and thou also, my benefactor, if thou wilt think it over well,—for thou art not stupid,—wilt understand thyself why I ask this of thee. And now, farewell, my dear. Thanks for thy visit; and remember the word that has been spoken, Fédya, and kiss me. Okh, my soul, it is hard for thee, I know: but then, life is not easy for any one. That is why I used to envy the flies; here, I thought, is something that finds life good; but once, in the night, I heard a fly grieving in the claws of a spider,—no, I thought, a thundercloud hangs over them also. What is to be done, Fédya? but remember thy word, nevertheless.—Go."
Lavrétzky emerged from the back entrance, and was already approaching the gate ... when a lackey overtook him.
"Márya Dmítrievna ordered me to ask you to be so good as to come to her,"—he announced to Lavrétzky.