“Do you love Lialia? Really and truly? It would be sad, and indeed shameful, if you were to betray her; she’s so pure, so innocent!”
And Riasantzeff would have liked to answer:
“Yes, I love your sister deeply; who could do anything else but love her? Look how pure and sweet, and charming she is; how fond she is of me; and what a pretty dimple she’s got!”
But instead of all this, Yourii said nothing, and Riasantzeff asked:
“Have you been expelled for long?”
“For five years,” was Yourii’s answer.
At these words Nicolai Yegorovitch, who was pacing up and down the room, stopped for a moment and then, recollecting himself, he continued his walk with the regular, precise steps of an old soldier. As yet he was ignorant of the details of his son’s exile, and this unexpected news came as a shock.
“What the devil does it all mean?” he muttered to himself.
Lialia understood this movement of her father’s. She was afraid of scenes, and tried to change the conversation.
“How foolish of me,” she thought, “not to have remembered to tell Anatole!”