Anna Pávlovna rose, went to the holy picture, made a reverence to the floor, and softly followed her son. Olga Ivánovna followed her silently and immovably with her eyes. Vasíly hastily came back, seized her hand, whispered in her ear: "Trust to me, and do not betray us,"--and immediately withdrew.... "Boursier!" he shouted, as he ran swiftly down the stairs.--"Boursier!" A quarter of an hour later he was seated in his calash with his servant. Old Rogatchyóff was not at home that day. He had gone to the county town, to buy seersucker for kaftans to clothe his retainers. Pável Afanásievitch was sitting in his study, and inspecting a collection of faded butterflies. Elevating his eyebrows, and thrusting forth his lips, he was cautiously turning about with a pin the large wings of the "nocturnal sphinx," when suddenly, he felt a small but heavy hand on his shoulder. He glanced round--before him stood Vasíly. "Good morning, Vasíly Ivánovitch,"--said he, not without some surprise. Vasíly looked at him and sat down in front of him on a chair. Pável Afanásievitch was about to smile ... but glanced at Vasíly, relaxed, opened his mouth, and clasped his hands. "Come, tell me, Pável Afanásievitch,"--began Vasíly, suddenly:--"do you intend to have the wedding soon?" "I?... soon .... of course.... I, so far as I am concerned .... however, that is as you and your sister choose.... I, for my part, am ready to-morrow, if you like." "Very good, very good. You are a very impatient man, Pável Afanásievitch." "How so, sir?" "Listen,"--added Vasíly Ivánovitch, rising to his feet:--"I know everything; you understand me, and I order you to marry Olga without delay, to-morrow." "But excuse me, excuse me,"--returned Rogatchyóff, without rising from his seat;--"you order me? I myself have sought the hand of Olga Ivánovna, and there is no need to order me. I must confess, Vasíly Ivánovitch, somehow, I don't understand you...." "Thou dost not understand?" "No, really, I don't understand, sir." "Wilt thou give me thy word to marry her to-morrow?" "Why, good gracious, Vasíly Ivánovitch .... have n't you yourself repeatedly postponed our marriage? If it had not been for you, it would have taken place long ago. And even now I have no idea of refusing. But what is the meaning of your threats, of your urgent demands?" Pável Afanásievitch wiped the perspiration from his face. "Wilt thou give me thy word? Speak! Yes, or no?"--repeated Vasíly with pauses between his words. "Certainly ... I give it, sir, but ...." "Good. Remember.... And she has confessed everything." "Who has confessed?" "Olga Ivánovna." "But what has she confessed?" "Why do you dissimulate with me, Pável Afanásievitch? Surely, I 'm not a stranger to you." "How am I dissimulating? I don't understand you, I don't understand you, positively I don't understand you. What could Olga Ivánovna confess?" "What? You bore me! You know well what." "May God slay me if ...."