“Most likely he is going to live here. They don’t know we are here. If they did, they would have looked at our villa, but they drank their tea and took no notice.”

“Where is he now? But for God’s sake do talk sense! Oh, where is he?”

“He has gone fishing with Misha in the chaise. Did you see the horses yesterday? Those are their horses⁠ ⁠… Vanya’s⁠ ⁠… Vanya drives with them. Do you know what, Grisha? We will have Misha to stay with us.⁠ ⁠… We will, won’t we? He is such a pretty boy. Such an exquisite boy!”

Groholsky pondered, while Liza went on talking and talking.

“This is an unexpected meeting,” said Groholsky, after prolonged and, as usual, harrassing reflection. “Well, who could have expected that we should meet here? Well⁠ ⁠… There it is.⁠ ⁠… So be it. It seems that it is fated. I can imagine the awkwardness of his position when he meets us.”

“Shall we have Misha to stay with us?”

“Yes, we will.⁠ ⁠… It will be awkward meeting him.⁠ ⁠… Why, what can I say to him? What can I talk of? It will be awkward for him and awkward for me.⁠ ⁠… We ought not to meet. We will carry on communications, if necessary, through the servants.⁠ ⁠… My head does ache so, Lizotchka. My arms and legs too, I ache all over. Is my head feverish?”

Liza put her hand on his forehead and found that his head was hot.

“I had dreadful dreams all night⁠ ⁠… I shan’t get up today. I shall stay in bed⁠ ⁠… I must take some quinine. Send me my breakfast here, little woman.”

Groholsky took quinine and lay in bed the whole day. He drank warm water, moaned, had the sheets and pillowcase changed, whimpered, and induced an agonising boredom in all surrounding him.