However, the simply amiable lady could find no opinion to express. She only knew how to be full of anxiety; but to imagine a complicated supposition was an impossibility to her, and for that reason, more than any other woman, she was obliged to have resource to tender friendship and suggestions.
"Well, listen then to me, and I will tell you what these dead souls mean," said the in every respect amiable lady, and her guest concentrated all her attention upon hearing; her little ears became, if possible, longer, she rose slightly from her seat, nearly not sitting nor leaning on the sofa, and regardless of her slight embonpoint, she became suddenly lighter, similar to a feather ready to fly away at the least breath.
"These dead souls are—" pronounced the in every respect amiable lady.
"What, what?" interrupted her guest, full of emotion.
"The dead serfs!"
"Oh, speak! for Heaven's sake speak."
"They are simply a pretext, but the real truth is the following; he intends to run away with the daughter of the Lord-Lieutenant of Smolensk."
This conclusion was perfectly sudden and unexpected, and in every respect very extraordinary.
Scarcely had the simply amiable lady heard the conclusion her friend had arrived at, when she stood there like a statue, grew pale, pale as death, and this time really and seriously seemed to be distracted and bewildered. "Oh, good Heavens!" she exclaimed in a faint voice, "nothing in the world could ever have suggested such an idea to me!"
"As for my part," said the in every respect amiable lady, "I must inform you, that, scarcely had you opened your lips on the subject, when I already guessed the whole affair."