“I knew nothing about your home before,” said the prince absently, as if he were thinking of something else. “Poor orphans,” began Lebedeff, his face assuming a mournful air, but he stopped short, for the other looked at him inattentively, as if he had already forgotten his own remark. They waited a few minutes in silence, while Lebedeff sat with his eyes fixed mournfully on the young man’s face. “Well!” said the latter, at last rousing himself. “Ah! yes! You know why I came, Lebedeff. Your letter brought me. Speak! Tell me all about it.” The clerk, rather confused, tried to say something, hesitated, began to speak, and again stopped. The prince looked at him gravely. “I think I understand, Lukian Timofeyovitch: you were not sure that I should come. You did not think I should start at the first word from you, and you merely wrote to relieve your conscience. However, you see now that I have come, and I have had enough of trickery. Give up serving, or trying to serve, two masters. Rogojin has been here these three weeks. Have you managed to sell her to him as you did before? Tell me the truth.” “He discovered everything, the monster... himself......” “Don’t abuse him; though I dare say you have something to complain of....” “He beat me, he thrashed me unmercifully!” replied Lebedeff vehemently. “He set a dog on me in Moscow, a bloodhound, a terrible beast that chased me all down the street.” “You seem to take me for a child, Lebedeff. Tell me, is it a fact that she left him while they were in Moscow?” “Yes, it is a fact, and this time, let me tell you, on the very eve of their marriage! It was a question of minutes when she slipped off to Petersburg. She came to me directly she arrived—‘Save me, Lukian! find me some refuge, and say nothing to the prince!’ She is afraid of you, even more than she is of him, and in that she shows her wisdom!” And Lebedeff slily put his finger to his brow as he said the last words. “And now it is you who have brought them together again?” “Excellency, how could I, how could I prevent it?” “That will do. I can find out for myself. Only tell me, where is she now? At his house? With him?” “Oh no! Certainly not! ‘I am free,’ she says; you know how she insists on that point. ‘I am entirely free.’ She repeats it over and over again. She is living in Petersburgskaia, with my sister-in-law, as I told you in my letter.” “She is there at this moment?” “Yes, unless she has gone to Pavlofsk: the fine weather may have tempted her, perhaps, into the country, with Daria Alexeyevna. ‘I am quite free,’ she says. Only yesterday she boasted of her freedom to Nicolai Ardalionovitch—a bad sign,” added Lebedeff, smiling. “Colia goes to see her often, does he not?” “He is a strange boy, thoughtless, and inclined to be indiscreet.” “Is it long since you saw her?” “I go to see her every day, every day.” “Then you were there yesterday?” “N-no: I have not been these three last days.”