"She's always coming to our house," complained Peredonov. "And always nosing around. She's very grasping--she takes all she can get. It's possible that she wants money from me in order to keep her from reporting that I once had Pisarev. Or perhaps she wants to marry me. But I don't want to pay her. And I have someone else I want to marry--let her inform against me--I'm not guilty. Only it's unpleasant to me to have this gossip as it might prevent my appointment." "She's a well-known charlatan," said the District Attorney. "She wanted to take up fortune-telling by cards here, and to get money out of fools. But I asked the police to stop it. At that time they were sensible and did what I told them." "Even now she tells fortunes," said Peredonov. "She spread out the cards for me and she always saw a long journey and an official letter for me." "She knows what to say to everybody. Just wait, she'll set a trap for you and then she'll try and extort money from you. Then you come to me and I'll give her a hundred of the hottest lashes," said Avinovitsky, using his favourite expression. This expression was not to be taken literally, it merely meant an ordinary rebuke. Thus Avinovitsky promised his protection to Peredonov, but Peredonov left him agitated by vague fears inspired by Avinovitsky's loud, stern speeches. * * * * * In this manner Peredonov made a single visit every day before dinner--he could not manage more than one because everywhere he had to make circumstantial explanations. In the evening, as was his custom, he went to play billiards. As before, Vershina enticed him in by her witching invitations, as before Routilov praised his sisters to him. At home Varvara used her persuasive powers to make him marry her sooner--but he came to no resolution. He indeed thought sometimes that to marry Varvara would be the best thing he could do--but suppose the Princess should deceive him? He would become the laughing-stock of the town, and this possibility made him pause. The pursuit of him by would-be brides, the envy of his comrades, more often the product of his imagination than an actual fact, all sorts of suspected snares--all this made his life wearisome and unhappy, like the weather which for several successive days had been bleak, and often resolved itself into slow and scant, but cold and prolonged rains. Peredonov felt that life was becoming a detestable thing--but he thought that he would soon become an inspector, and then everything would take a turn for the better. [1] Alexander Herzen's periodical, the "Kolokol" (The Bell), was suppressed in 1863 for its sympathy with the Poles. CHAPTER X On Thursday, Peredonov went to see the Marshal of the Nobility.