“Que voulez-vous dire?” asked Sipiagin, flinging the pamphlet on the table with a graceful gesture of the hand.
“Ouvrez les yeux, et vous verrez!” Madame Sipiagina replied. They always spoke to one another in French.
“H’m!” Sipiagin grunted. “Are you referring to that student?”
“Yes, I’m referring to him.”
“H’m! Has he got anything on here, eh?” (He passed his hand over his forehead.)
“Open your eyes!”
“Is it Mariana, eh?” (The second “eh” was pronounced more through the nose than the first one.)
“Open your eyes, I tell you!”
Sipiagin frowned.
“We must talk about this later on. I should just like to say now that this Solomin may feel rather uncomfortable.... You see, he is not used to society. We must be nice to him so as to make him feel at his ease. Of course, I don’t mean this for you, you’re such a dear, that I think you could fascinate anyone if you chose. J’en sais quelque chose, madame! I mean this for the others, if only for——”