I was swept off my feet, consumed by a wild rage. I began to abuse the mistress, and was soundly beaten.
But it was not so much the beating which tortured me as the thought of what my Queen Margot was now thinking of me. How should I ever set myself right in her eyes? Bitter were my thoughts in that dreadful time. I did not strangle myself only because I had not the time to do so.
Fortunately for me, the soldiers spread the story over the whole yard, the whole street, and in the evening, as I lay in the attic, I heard the loud voice of Natalia Kozlovski below.
"No! Why should I hold my tongue? No, my dear fellow, get away! Get along with you! Go away, I say! If you don't, I will go to your gentleman, and he will give you something!"
I felt at once that this noise was about me. She was shouting near our steps; her voice rang out loudly and triumphantly.
"How much money did you show me yesterday? Where did you get it from? Tell us!"
Holding my breath with joy, I heard Sidorov drawl sadly:
"Aie! aie! Ermokhin—"
"And the boy has had the blame for it? He has been beaten for it, eh?"
I felt like running down to the yard, dancing there for joy, kissing the washerwoman out of gratitude; but at that moment, apparently from the window, my mistress cried: