"Say to her, my good fellow, that I cannot at present ..." began Feódor Ivánitch.
"She ordered me to entreat you urgently,"—went on the lackey:—"she ordered me to say, that she is at home."
"But have the visitors gone?"—asked Lavrétzky.
"Yes, sir,"—returned the lackey, and grinned.
Lavrétzky shrugged his shoulders, and followed him.
XLIII
Márya Dmítrievna was sitting alone, in her boudoir, in a sofa-chair, and sniffing eau de Cologne; a glass of orange-flower water was standing beside her, on a small table. She was excited, and seemed to be timorous.
Lavrétzky entered.