“Don’t cry, Misha darling.⁠ ⁠… Papa won’t touch you again. Don’t beat him, Ivan Petrovitch; why, he is hardly more than a baby.⁠ ⁠… There, there.⁠ ⁠… Would you like a little horse? I’ll send you a little horse.⁠ ⁠… You really are hard-hearted.⁠ ⁠…”

Groholsky paused, and then asked:

“And how are your ladies getting on, Ivan Petrovitch?”

“Not at all. I’ve turned them out without ceremony. I might have gone on keeping them, but it’s awkward.⁠ ⁠… The boy will grow up.⁠ ⁠… A father’s example.⁠ ⁠… If I were alone, then it would be a different thing.⁠ ⁠… Besides, what’s the use of my keeping them? Poof⁠ ⁠… it’s a regular farce! I talk to them in Russian, and they answer me in French. They don’t understand a thing⁠—you can’t knock anything into their heads.”

“I’ve come to you about something, Ivan Petrovitch, to talk things over.⁠ ⁠… H’m.⁠ ⁠… It’s nothing very particular. But just⁠ ⁠… two or three words.⁠ ⁠… In reality, I have a favour to ask of you.”

“What’s that?”

“Would you think it possible, Ivan Petrovitch, to go away? We are delighted that you are here; it’s very agreeable for us, but it’s inconvenient, don’t you know.⁠ ⁠… You will understand me. It’s awkward in a way.⁠ ⁠… Such indefinite relations, such continual awkwardness in regard to one another.⁠ ⁠… We must part.⁠ ⁠… It’s essential in fact. Excuse my saying so, but⁠ ⁠… you must see for yourself, of course, that in such circumstances to be living side by side leads to⁠ ⁠… reflections⁠ ⁠… that is⁠ ⁠… not to reflections, but there is a certain awkward feeling.⁠ ⁠…”

“Yes.⁠ ⁠… That is so, I have thought of it myself. Very good, I will go away.”

“We shall be very grateful to you.⁠ ⁠… Believe me, Ivan Petrovitch, we shall preserve the most flattering memory of you. The sacrifice which you⁠ ⁠…”