“I said everything I could think of!”
“Very well, baron!”
The adjutant came up to Markelov, clinked his spurs, made a horizontal movement of the hand, as if to request Markelov to make a move; the latter turned and walked out. Paklin, only in imagination it is true, but with bitter sympathy and pity, shook him by the hand.
“We’ll send some of our men to the factory,” the governor continued; “but you know, Boris, I thought this gentleman” (he moved his chin in Paklin’s direction) “told you something about your niece ... I understood that she was there at the factory. Then how——”
“It’s impossible to arrest her in any case,” Sipiagin remarked thoughtfully; “perhaps she will think better of it and return. I’ll write her a note, if I may.”
“Do please. You may be quite sure ... nous coffrerons le quidam ... mais nous sommes galants avec les dames ... et avec celle-là donc!”
“But you’ve made no arrangements about this Solomin,” Kollomietzev exclaimed plaintively. He had been on the alert all the while, trying to catch what the governor and Sipiagin were saying. “I assure you he’s the principal ringleader! I have a wonderful instinct about these things!”
“Pas trop de zèle, my dear Simion Petrovitch,” the governor remarked with a smile. “You remember Talleyrand! If it is really as you say the fellow won’t escape us. You had better think of your—” the governor put his hand to his throat significantly. “By the way,” he said, turning to Sipiagin, “et ce gaillard-là” (he moved his chin in Paklin’s direction). “Qu’en ferons nous? He does not appear very dangerous.”
“Let him go,” Sipiagin said in an undertone, and added in German, “Lass’ den Lumpen laufen!”
He imagined for some reason that he was quoting from Goethe’s Götz von Berlichingen.