'Yes, madam, with one word! It's useless to look at me!' (He
crossed his arms on his breast.) 'Allow me to ask you, do you know a
certain house near Povarsky? Have you visited that house?' (He
stamped.) 'Answer me, worthless girl, and don't try to hide the truth.
People, people, servants, _madam, de vils laquais_ have seen you, as
you went in there, to your----'

Elena was crimson, her eyes were blazing.

'I have no need to hide anything,' she declared. 'Yes, I have visited
that house.'

'Exactly! Do you hear, do you hear, Anna Vassilyevna? And you know,
I presume, who lives there?'

'Yes, I know; my husband.'

Nikolai Artemyevitch's eyes were starting out of his head.

'Your----'

'My husband,' repeated Elena; 'I am married to Dmitri Nikanorovitch
Insarov.'

'You?--married?'--was all Anna Vassilyevna could articulate.

'Yes, mamma. . . . Forgive me. A fortnight ago, we were secretly
married.'

Anna Vassilyevna fell back in her chair; Nikolai Artemyevitch stepped