She varied her phrase, with the same incongruous effect of positiveness.
“I know to a certainty what you have been told to do.”
“Really?” Razumov shrugged his shoulders a little. He was about to pass on with a bow, when a sudden thought struck him. “Yes. To be sure! In your confidential position you are aware of many things,” he murmured, looking at the cat.
That animal got a momentary convulsive hug from the lady companion.
“Everything was disclosed to me a long time ago,” she said.
“Everything,” Razumov repeated absently.
“Peter Ivanovitch is an awful despot,” she jerked out.
Razumov went on studying the stripes on the grey fur of the cat.
“An iron will is an integral part of such a temperament. How else could he be a leader? And I think that you are mistaken in—”
“There!” she cried. “You tell me that I am mistaken. But I tell you all the same that he cares for no one.” She jerked her head up. “Don’t you bring that girl here. That’s what you have been told to do—to bring that girl here. Listen to me; you had better tie a stone round her neck and throw her into the lake.”