"No, I am not going," she answered, throwing back her head, as if she expected a blow.
"Well—go to the devil, all of you!" he cried, with a hopeless gesture. "What the deuce do I want with any of you?"
"You poor fool!" exclaimed the doctor almost compassionately.
"Don't swear!" shouted Grigori; then turning to his wife, "Well, you damned hussy, you see I am off!... Perhaps we shall never meet again in this life ... perhaps we shall ... that will be just as I choose. But if we do meet—it won't go well with you.... That I can promise you!"
Then he turned towards the door.
"Farewell, you tragic hero!" cried the doctor in a sarcastic voice, as Grigori passed him. Orloff stopped, and turning his sad glowing eyes on the doctor, said in a restrained voice—
"You had better leave me alone ... don't wind up the spring any more ... it was lucky it unwound without hurting any one ... don't try it on again!".
He picked up his wet cap from the floor, put it on his head, lingered for a moment, and then went out without once glancing at Matrona.
The doctor looked at Orloff's wife with a searching glance, as she stood in front of him with a pale death-like look on her face.
Then nodding in the direction of Grigori, he asked her, "What is the matter with him?"