Nadézhda Alexyéevna burst out laughing.
“I cause thee a great deal of trouble, there’s no denying that. I have a commission to thee.”
“Really?—I hadn’t the slightest suspicion of that.”
“I’m speaking of Másha.”
“On what score?”
Nadézhda Alexyéevna’s face assumed a slight expression of pain.
“Thou knowest thyself,”—she said softly.
“Ah, I understand!—What’s to be done, Nadézhda Alexyéevna, ma’am? I love to drink with a good friend, ma’am, sinful man that I am; I love it, ma’am.”
“Stop, brother, please don’t talk like that!... This is no jesting matter.”
“Tram-tram-tam-poom!”—muttered Piótr Alexyéitch through his teeth.