“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. Today⁠ ⁠… 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 creature. “Come away, come away! To the woods, to the fields!”