Maria sat down, adjusted her dress, folded her arms, and prepared to listen to him.
“I am listening,” she said, adjusting her dress once more.
“Do you know, Masha—I am a spy!” he said in a whisper, his voice quivering.
“What?”
“A spy, do you understand?”
Maria wrung her hands quietly and exclaimed:
“I knew it, unfortunate woman that I am—my God! my God!”
Jumping over to his wife, Mitrofan waved his fist at her very face, restrained himself with difficulty from striking her, and shouted so loudly that all became quiet in the house.
“Fool! Blockhead! You knew it. My God! How could you know it? My wife—my friend, all my thoughts—my money, everything—”
He stationed himself at the stove and began to cry.