“We shall see whether I understand or no!” said Gania, enigmatically. “But I shouldn’t like her to know all about father, all the same. I thought the prince would manage to hold his tongue about this, at least. He prevented Lebedeff spreading the news—he wouldn’t even tell me all when I asked him—”
“Then you must see that he is not responsible. What does it matter to you now, in any case? What are you hoping for still? If you have a hope left, it is that your suffering air may soften her heart towards you.”
“Oh, she would funk a scandal like anyone else. You are all tarred with one brush!”
“What! Aglaya would have funked? You are a chicken-hearted fellow, Gania!” said Varia, looking at her brother with contempt. “Not one of us is worth much. Aglaya may be a wild sort of a girl, but she is far nobler than any of us, a thousand times nobler!”
“Well—come! there’s nothing to get cross about,” said Gania.
“All I’m afraid of is—mother. I’m afraid this scandal about father may come to her ears; perhaps it has already. I am dreadfully afraid.”
“It undoubtedly has already!” observed Gania.
Varia had risen from her place and had started to go upstairs to her mother; but at this observation of Gania’s she turned and gazed at him attentively.
“Who could have told her?”
“Hippolyte, probably. He would think it the most delightful amusement in the world to tell her of it the instant he moved over here; I haven’t a doubt of it.”