“I tell you, as soon as I arrived I was in the thick of an intrigue. You read Madame Drozdov’s letter, of course. What could be clearer? What did I find? That fool Praskovya herself⁠—she always was a fool⁠—looked at me as much as to ask why I’d come. You can fancy how surprised I was. I looked round, and there was that Lembke woman at her tricks, and that cousin of hers⁠—old Drozdov’s nephew⁠—it was all clear. You may be sure I changed all that in a twinkling, and Praskovya is on my side again, but what an intrigue!”

“In which you came off victor, however. Bismarck!”

“Without being a Bismarck I’m equal to falseness and stupidity wherever I meet it, falseness, and Praskovya’s folly. I don’t know when I’ve met such a flabby woman, and what’s more her legs are swollen, and she’s a good-natured simpleton, too. What can be more foolish than a good-natured simpleton?”

“A spiteful fool, ma bonne amie , a spiteful fool is still more foolish,” Stepan Trofimovitch protested magnanimously.