“Lovely, lovely!” Liza laughed hysterically.
“Well, hang it all … Lizaveta Nikolaevna,” said Pyotr Stepanovitch suddenly piqued. “I am simply here on your account.… It’s nothing to me.… I helped you yesterday when you wanted it yourself. To-day … well, you can see Mavriky Nikolaevitch from here; there he’s sitting; he doesn’t see us. I say, Lizaveta Nikolaevna, have you ever read ‘Polenka Saxe’?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s the name of a novel, ‘Polenka Saxe.’ I read it when I was a student.… In it a very wealthy official of some sort, Saxe, arrested his wife at a summer villa for infidelity.… But, hang it; it’s no consequence! You’ll see, Mavriky Nikolaevitch will make you an offer before you get home. He doesn’t see us yet.”
“Ach! Don’t let him see us!” Liza cried suddenly, like a mad creat
