The friends had something to eat and drink, and went in a coach and pair to the cemetery. “Yes, it was a good time,” Shapkin was reminiscent, sitting in the sledge. “I remember, but I simply can’t believe it. Do you remember how you divorced your wife? It’s almost twenty years ago, and you’ve probably forgotten everything, but I remember it as though I conducted the petition yesterday. My God, how rotten I was! Then I was a smart, casuistical devil, full of sharp practice and devilry.... and I used to run into some shady affairs, particularly when there was a good fee, as in your case, for instance. What was it you paid me then? Five--six hundred. Enough to upset anybody! By the time you left for Petersburg you’d left the whole affair completely in my hands. ‘Do what you like!’ And your former wife, Sophia Mikhailovna, though she did come from a merchant family, was proud and selfish. To bribe her to take the guilt on herself was difficult--extremely difficult. I used to come to her for a business talk, and when she saw me, she would say to her maid: ‘Masha, surely I told you I wasn’t at home to scoundrels.’ I tried one way, then another ... wrote letters to her, tried to meet her accidentally--no good. I had to work through a third person. For a long time I had trouble with her, and she only yielded when you agreed to give her ten thousand. She could not stand out against ten thousand. She succumbed.... She began to weep, spat in my face, but she yielded and took the guilt on herself.” “If I remember it was fifteen, not ten thousand she took from me,” said Usielkov. “Yes, of course ... fifteen, my mistake.” Shapkin was disconcerted. “Anyway it’s all past and done with now. Why shouldn’t I confess, frankly? Ten I gave to her, and the remaining five I bargained out of you for my own share. I deceived both of you.... It’s all past, why be ashamed of it? And who else was there to take from, Boris Pietrovich, if not from you? I ask you.... You were rich and well-to-do. You married in caprice: you were divorced in caprice. You were making a fortune. I remember you got twenty thousand out of a single contract. Whom was I to tap, if not you? And I must confess, I was tortured by envy. If you got hold of a nice lot of money, people would take off their hats to you: but the same people would beat me for shillings and smack my face in the club. But why recall it? It’s time to forget.” “Tell me, please, how did Sophia Mikhailovna live afterwards?” “With her ten thousand? _On ne peut plus_ badly.... God knows whether it was frenzy or pride and conscience that tortured her, because she had sold herself for money--or perhaps she loved you; but, she took to drink, you know. She received the money and began to gad about with officers in troikas.... Drunkenness, philandering, debauchery.... She would come into a tavern with an officer, and instead of port or a light wine, she would drink the strongest cognac to drive her into a frenzy.”