"I will not let thee go, my own one, I will not let thee go. What art thou doing, dear little father, what art thou doing? And what will Afanásy Lúkitch say? Why, he will drive all of us out of the white world.... And why do ye stand there? Seize the unbidden guest by the arms, and lead him forth from the house, that no trace of him may remain...."
"Rogatchyóff!"—shouted Vasíly Ivánovitch, menacingly.
"Thou hast gone crazy, Efímovna, thou art disgracing me,".... said Pável Afanásievitch.—"Go away, go, with God's blessing, and begone, all of you, do you hear? Do you hear?..."
Vasíly Ivánovitch walked swiftly to the open window, drew out a small silver whistle, and whistled lightly.... Boursier answered close at hand. Lutchínoff immediately turned to Pável Afanásievitch.
"How is this comedy to end?"
"Vasíly Ivánovitch, I will come to you to-morrow—what am I to do with this crazy woman?...."
"Eh! I see that it is useless to talk long with you,"—said Vasíly, and swiftly raised his cane....
Pável Afanásievitch dashed forward, thrust aside Efímovna, seized his sword, and rushed through the other door into the park.
Vasíly darted after him. They both ran to a wooden arbour artfully painted in the Chinese manner, locked themselves in, and bared their swords. Rogatchyóff had once upon a time taken lessons in fencing; but he barely knew how to parry properly. The blades crossed. Vasíly was, evidently, playing with Rogatchyóff's sword. Pável Afanásievitch sighed, turned pale, and gazed with consternation into Lutchínoff's face. In the meanwhile, cries resounded in the park; a throng of people rushed to the arbour. Suddenly Rogatchyóff heard a heart-rending, senile roar .... he recognised his father's voice. Afanásy Lúkitch, hatless, and with dishevelled locks, was running in front of all, waving his arms despairingly....