"That was not right, young man," said Travkin suddenly, in a tone both reproachful and magnanimous, standing firm and turning round towards Ilya. "That was not right! you should know how to value things--you need to understand them." "But I don't understand," cried Ilya, "that's just what I'm talking about. How does it come about that Petrusha Filimonov is the lord of life and death?" The guests went past Ilya without looking at him, and carefully avoided even touching his clothes. Kirik, however, came close up to him, and said in a harsh, insulting voice, "Go to the devil, you clown, that's what you are!" Ilya started, a mist came over his eyes as though he had received a blow on the head, and he moved threateningly against Avtonomov with his fist clenched. But Kirik had already turned away without heeding his movements, and entered the other room. Ilya groaned aloud. He stood in the doorway, regarding the backs of the people round the table, and heard them eating noisily. The bright blouse of the hostess seemed to colour everything red, and make a cloud before his eyes. "Ah," said Travkin. "This is good, quite excellent." "Have some pepper with it?" asked the hostess tenderly. "I'll add the pepper," thought Lunev scornfully. He was strung to the highest tension, and in two strides was standing by the table with head erect. He grasped the first glass of wine he saw, held it out towards Tatiana Vlassyevna, and said clearly and sharply, as though he would stab her with the words: "To your health, Tanyka!" His words had an effect on the company as though the lights had gone out with a deafening crash, and every one stood frozen to the floor in dense darkness. The half-open mouths, with their unswallowed morsels, looked like wounds on their terror-stricken faces. "Come! let us drink! Kirik Nikodimovitch, tell my mistress to drink with me! Don't be disturbed--what do these others matter? Why should we sin always in secret? Let us deal openly. I have resolved, you see, from henceforth everything shall be done openly." "You beast!" screamed the piercing voice of Tatiana. Ilya saw her hand shoot out, and struck aside the plate she hurled at him. The crash of the flying pieces added to the confusion of the guests. They crept aside slowly and noiselessly, leaving Ilya alone face to face with the Avtonomovs. Kirik was holding a small fish by the tail, and blinked, looking pale and miserable and almost idiotic. Tatiana Vlassyevna shook in every limb, and threatened Ilya with her fists; her face was the colour of her dress, and her tongue could hardly form a word. "You liar--you liar!" she hissed, stretching out her head towards Ilya. "Shall I mention some of your birthmarks?" said Ilya quietly, "and your husband shall say if I speak the truth or no." There was a murmur in the room and suppressed laughter. Tatiana stretched up her arms, caught at her throat and sank on a chair without a sound.