‘Conscience!’ retorted the police captain. ‘We know all about your conscience! I suppose it’s in your pocket, just the same as it is with us sinners!’ The priest, meanwhile, even though already on his feet, foreseeing the speedy termination of the repast, lifted mouthful after mouthful to his mouth without a pause. ‘You’ve got a fine appetite, I see,’ Sletkin observed to him sharply. ‘Storing up for the future,’ the priest responded with a meek grimace; years of hunger were expressed in that reply. The carriages rattled up … and we separated. On the way home, no one hindered Souvenir’s chatter and silly tricks, as Kvitsinsky had announced that he was sick of all this ‘wholly superfluous’ unpleasantness, and had set off home before us on foot. In his place, Zhitkov took a seat in our coach. The retired major wore a most dissatisfied expression, and kept twitching his moustaches like a spider. ‘Well, your noble Excellency,’ lisped Souvenir, ‘is subordination exploded, eh? Wait a bit and see what will happen! They’ll give you the sack too. Ah, a poor bridegroom you are, a poor bridegroom, an unlucky bridegroom!’ Souvenir was positively beside himself; while poor Zhitkov could do nothing but twitch his moustaches. When I got home I told my mother all I had seen. She heard me to the end, and shook her head several times. ‘It’s a bad business,’ was her comment. ‘I don’t like all these innovations!’ XV Next day Martin Petrovitch came to dinner. My mother congratulated him on the successful conclusion of his project. ‘You are now a free man,’ she said, ‘and ought to feel more at ease.’ ‘More at ease, to be sure, madam,’ answered Martin Petrovitch, by no means, however, showing in the expression of his face that he really was more at ease. ‘Now I can meditate upon my soul, and make ready for my last hour, as I ought.’ ‘Well,’ queried my mother, ‘and do the shooting pains still tingle in your arms?’ Harlov twice clenched and unclenched his left arm. ‘They do, madam; and I’ve something else to tell you. As I begin to drop asleep, some one cries in my head, “Take care!” “Take care!”’ ‘That’s nerves,’ observed my mother, and she began speaking of the previous day, and referred to certain circumstances which had attended the completion of the deed of partition.… ‘To be sure, to be sure,’ Harlov interrupted her, ‘there was something of the sort … of no consequence. Only there’s something I would tell you,’ he added, hesitating--‘I was not disturbed yesterday by Souvenir’s silly words--even Mr. Attorney, though he’s no fool--even he did not trouble me; no, it was quite another person disturbed me----’ Here Harlov faltered. ‘Who?’ asked my mother. Harlov fastened his eyes upon her: ‘Evlampia!’ ‘Evlampia? Your daughter? How was that?’