So he had to learn from others that he was not a respectable man; he had to learn from strange lips that people looked down upon him, laughed at, cursed him, sneered at him as the man who made money out of his daughters' love affairs, and whose house was a place where young men were corrupted.
And he had always fancied that he was the best man in the world, whose house was honoured and respected, and whose friendship was sought after!
In his confusion of mind he had wandered out of his way as far as the Malomligeti pond. What a nice pond! he thought. How many wicked girls could be suffocated there! A man, too, might easily leap into it, and be at rest! Then he turned back again and hastened home.
At home they were still chattering and exclaiming at the pretensions of Aunt Teresa. The youngest girl was passed from hand to hand, and kissed and embraced as if some great misfortune awaited her.
"Poor Fanny, it would be better for you to be a servant with us than to live with Aunt Teresa!"
"Oh, what a pleasant time you'll have, sewing and knitting all day long, and in the evening reading devotional books to aunty till she dozes off!"
"I know she will always be running us down; you will never see us, and we shall become quite strangers to you."
"Poor Fanny, the old faggot will beat you, too."
"Poor Fanny!"
"My poor girl!"