“You must understand at last,” he went on, “you must understand that in pronouncing his name I am betraying him to you⁠—I am betraying him, am I not? I am, am I not?”

“But how am I to guess if you don’t make up your mind to speak out?”

“That’s just it; you always cut the ground from under one’s feet with your logic, damn it.⁠ ⁠… Well, here goes⁠ ⁠… this ‘noble personality,’ this ‘student’⁠ ⁠… is Shatov⁠ ⁠… that’s all.”

“Shatov? How do you mean it’s Shatov?”

“Shatov is the ‘student’ who is mentioned in this. He lives here, he was once a serf, the man who gave that slap.⁠ ⁠…”

“I know, I know.” Lembke screwed up his eyes. “But excuse me, what is he accused of? Precisely and, above all, what is your petition?”