“I see you have found out who I am!” said the grey-haired man softly, and with apparent calm.
“No, I have not that pleasure.”
“It is no great pleasure. I am that Pózdnyshev in whose life that critical episode occurred to which you alluded; the episode when he killed his wife,” he said, rapidly glancing at each of us.
No one knew what to say and all remained silent.
“Well, never mind,” he said with that peculiar sound of his. “However, pardon me. Ah! … I won’t intrude on you.”
“Oh, no, if you please …” said the lawyer, himself not knowing “if you please” what.
But Pózdnyshev, without listening to him, rapidly turned away and went back to his seat. The lawyer and the lady whispered together. I sat down beside Pózdnyshev in silence, unable to think of anything to say. It was too dark to read, so I shut my eyes pretending that I wished to go to sleep. So we travelled in silence to the next station.
At that station the lawyer and the lady moved into another car, having some time previously consulted the guard about it. The clerk lay down on the seat and fell asleep. Pózdnyshev kept smoking and drinking tea which he had made at the last station.
When I opened my eyes and looked at him he suddenly addressed me resolutely and irritably:
“Perhaps it is unpleasant for you to sit with me, knowing who I am? In that case I will go away.”
“Oh no, not at all.”