But the offended French lady could not be pacified for a long while,
and kept muttering something to herself.

'You need not believe me,' continued Pigasov coolly, 'but I assure you
I told the simple truth. Who should know if not I? After that perhaps
you won't believe that our neighbour, Madame Tchepuz, Elena Antonovna,
told me herself, mind _herself_, that she had murdered her nephew?'

'What an invention!'

'Wait a minute, wait a minute! Listen and judge for yourselves. Mind,
I don't want to slander her, I even like her as far as one can like a
woman. She hasn't a single book in her house except a calendar, and
she can't read except aloud, and that exercise throws her into a
violent perspiration, and she complains then that her eyes feel
bursting out of her head. . . . In short, she's a capital woman, and
her servant girls grow fat. Why should I slander her?'

'You see,' observed Darya Mihailovna, 'African Semenitch has got on
his hobbyhorse, now he will not be off it to-night.'

'My hobby! But women have three at least, which they are never off,
except, perhaps, when they're asleep.'

'What three hobbies are those?'

'Reproof, reproach, recrimination.'

'Do you know, African Semenitch,' began Darya Mihailovna, 'you cannot