“Yes, undoubtedly there are critical episodes in married life,” said the lawyer, wishing to end this disturbingly heated conversation.

“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.