“A sister? An invalid? With a whip?” Stepan Trofimovitch cried out, as though he had suddenly been lashed with a whip himself. “What sister? What Lebyadkin?” All his former terror came back in an instant.

“Lebyadkin! Oh, that’s the retired captain; he used only to call himself a lieutenant before.⁠ ⁠…”

“Oh, what is his rank to me? What sister? Good heavens!⁠ ⁠… You say Lebyadkin? But there used to be a Lebyadkin here.⁠ ⁠…”

“That’s the very man. ‘Our’ Lebyadkin, at Virginsky’s, you remember?”

“But he was caught with forged papers?”

“Well, now he’s come back. He’s been here almost three weeks and under the most peculiar circumstances.”

“Why, but he’s a scoundrel?”