“I am afraid of disgrace,” he whispered mysteriously.

“What disgrace? On the contrary! Believe me, Stepan Trofimovitch, that all this will be explained today and will end to your advantage.⁠ ⁠…”

“Are you so sure that they will pardon me?”

“Pardon you? What! What a word! What have you done? I assure you you’ve done nothing.”

“ Qu’en savez-vous; all my life has been⁠ ⁠… cher ⁠ ⁠… They’ll remember everything⁠ ⁠… and if they find nothing, it will be worse still ,” he added all of a sudden, unexpectedly.

“How do you mean it will be worse?”

“It will be worse.”