‘He is a very clever man, the baron.’
‘Yes.’
Darya Mihailovna sniffed at her little crushed-up handkerchief steeped in eau de cologne.
‘Are you in the government service?’ she asked.
‘Who? I?’
‘Yes.’
‘No. I have retired.’
There followed a brief pause. The general conversation was resumed.
‘If you will allow me to be inquisitive,’ began Pigasov, turning to Rudin, ‘do you know the contents of the essay which his excellency the baron has sent?’
‘Yes, I do.’