“How ‘as he did yesterday’? What do you mean? What did he do yesterday?” asked Gania, in alarm.
“Why, goodness me, don’t you know?” Varia stopped short.
“What? You don’t mean to say that he went there yesterday!” cried Gania, flushing red with shame and anger. “Good heavens, Varia! Speak! You have just been there. Was he there or not, quick?” And Gania rushed for the door. Varia followed and caught him by both hands.
“What are you doing? Where are you going to? You can’t let him go now; if you do he’ll go and do something worse.”
“What did he do there? What did he say?”
“They couldn’t tell me themselves; they couldn’t make head or tail of it; but he frightened them all. He came to see the general, who was not at home; so he asked for Lizabetha Prokofievna. First of all, he begged her for some place, or situation, for work of some kind, and then he began to complain about us, about me and my husband, and you, especially you; he said a lot of things.”
“Oh! couldn’t you find out?” muttered Gania, trembling hysterically.
“No—nothing more than that. Why, they couldn’t understand him themselves; and very likely didn’t tell me all.”
Gania seized his head with both hands and tottered to the window; Varia sat down at the other window.
“Funny girl, Aglaya,” she observed, after a pause. “When she left me she said, ‘Give my special and personal respects to your parents; I shall certainly find an opportunity to see your father one day,’ and so serious over it. She’s a strange creature.”