“Paklin?” he said at last.
“Yes, it is I. Aren’t you well?”
“No ... I’m not well. But why are you here?”
“Why?” ... But at this moment Mariana stealthily touched Paklin on the elbow. He turned around and saw that she was making signs to him. “Oh, yes!” he muttered. “Yes.... You see, Aliosha,” he added aloud, “I’ve come here upon a very important matter and must go away at once. Solomin will tell you all about it—and Mariana—Mariana Vikentievna. They both fully approve of what I am going to do. The thing concerns us all. No, no,” he put in hastily in response to a look and gesture from Mariana. “The thing concerns Markelov; our mutual friend Markelov; it concerns him alone. But I must say goodbye now. Every minute is precious. Goodbye, Aliosha.... We’ll see each other again sometime. Vassily Fedotitch, can you come with me to see about the horses?”
“Certainly. Mariana, I wanted to ask you to be firm, but that is not necessary. You’re a brick!”
“Yes, yes,” Paklin chimed in, “you are just like a Roman maiden in Cato’s time! Cato of Utica! We must be off, Vassily Fedotitch, come along!”
“There’s plenty of time,” Solomin observed with a faint smile. Nejdanov stood on one side to allow them room to pass out, but there was the same vacant expression in his eyes. After they had gone he took a step or two forward and sat down on a chair facing Mariana.
“Alexai,” she began, “everything has been found out. Markelov has been seized by the very peasants he was trying to better, and is now under arrest in this town, and so is the merchant with whom you dined once. I dare say the police will soon be here for us too. Paklin has gone to Sipiagin.”
“Why?” Nejdanov asked in a scarcely audible whisper. But there was a keen look in his eyes—his face assumed it’s habitual expression. The stupor had left him instantly.
“To try and find out if he would be willing to intercede.”