Both the Poles rose from their seats with a deeply offended air.
'Are you joking, panie?' said the short man, looking severely at Kalganov.
'How dare you!' Pan Vrublevsky, too, growled at Kalganov.
'Don't dare to shout like that,' cried Grushenka. 'Ah, you turkey-cocks!'
Mitya looked at each of them in turn. But something in Grushenka's face suddenly struck him, and at the same instant something new flashed into his mind--a strange new thought! 'Pani Agrippina,' the little Pole was beginning, crimson with anger, when Mitya suddenly went up to him and slapped him on the shoulder.
'Most illustrious, two words with you.'cried Grushenka.
'What do you want?'
'In the next room, I've two words to say to you, something pleasant, very pleasant. You'll be glad to hear it.'
The little pan was taken aback and looked apprehensively at Mitya. He agreed at once, however, on condition that Pan Vrublevsky went with them.
'The bodyguard? Let him come, and I want him, too. I must have him!' cried Mitya. 'March, panovie!'
'Where are you going?' asked Grushenka, anxiously.
'We'll be back in one moment,' answered Mitya.
There was a sort of boldness, a sudden confidence shining in his eyes. His face had looked very different when he entered the room an hour before.
He led the Poles, not into the large room where the chorus of girls was assembling and the table was being laid, but into the bedroom on the right, where the trunks and packages were kept, and there were two large beds, with pyramids of cotton pillows on each. There was a lighted candle on a small deal table in the corner. The small man and Mitya sat down to this table, facing each other, while the huge Vrublevsky stood beside them, his hands behind his back. The Poles looked severe but were evidently inquisitive.
'What can I do for you, panie?' lisped the little Pole.
'Well, look here, panie, I won't keep you long. There's money for you,' he pulled out his notes. 'Would you like three thousand? Take it and go your way.'
The Pole gazed open-eyed at Mitya, with a searching look.
'Three thousand, panie?' He exchanged glances with Vrublevsky.
'Three, panovie, three! Listen, panie, I see you're a sensible man. Take three thousand and go to the devil, and Vrublevsky with you d'you hear? But, at once, this very minute, and for ever. You understand that, panie, for ever. Here's the door, you go out of it. What have you got there, a great-coat, a fur coat? I'll bring it out to you. They'll get the horses out directly, and then-good-bye, panie!'
Mitya awaited an answer with assurance. He had no doubts. An expression of extraordinary resolution passed over the Pole's face.
'And the money, panie?'
'The money, panie? Five hundred roubles I'll give you this moment for the journey, and as a first instalment, and two thousand five hundred to-morrow, in the town--I swear on my honour, I'll get it, I'll get it at any cost!' cried Mitya.
The Poles exchanged glances again. The short man's face looked more forbidding.
'Seven hundred, seven hundred, not five hundred, at once, this minute, cash down!' Mitya added, feeling something wrong. 'What's the matter, panie? Don't you trust me? I can't give you the whole three thousand straight off. If I give it, you may come back to her to-morrow.... Besides, I haven't the three thousand with me. I've got it at home in the town,' faltered Mitya, his spirit sinking at every word he uttered. 'Upon my word, the money's there, hidden.'
In an instant an extraordinary sense of personal dignity showed itself in the little man's face.
'What next?' he asked ironically. 'For shame!' and he spat on the floor. Pan Vrublevsky spat too.
'You do that, panie,' said Mitya, recognising with despair that all was over, 'because you hope to make more out of Grushenka? You're a couple of capons, that's what you are!'
'This is a mortal insult!' The little Pole turned as red as a crab, and he went out of the room, briskly, as though unwilling to hear another word. Vrublevsky swung out after him, and Mitya followed, confused and crestfallen. He was afraid of Grushenka, afraid that the Pan would at once raise an outcry. And so indeed he did. The Pole walked into the room and threw himself in a theatrical attitude before Grushenka.
'Pani Agrippina, I have received a mortal insult!' he exclaimed. But Grushenka suddenly lost all patience, as though they had wounded her in the tenderest spot.
'Speak Russian! Speak Russian!' she cried, 'not another word of Polish! You used to talk Russian. You can't have forgotten it in five years.'
She was red with passion.
'Pani Agrippina-'
'My name's Agrafena, Grushenka, speak Russian or I won't listen!'
The Pole gasped with offended dignity, and quickly and pompously delivered himself in broken Russian:
'Pani Agrafena, I came here to forget the past and forgive it, to forget all that has happened till to-day-'
'Forgive? Came here to forgive me?' Grushenka cut him short, jumping up from her seat.
'Just so, Pani, I'm not pusillanimous, I'm magnanimous. But I was astounded when I saw your lovers. Pan Mitya offered me three thousand, in the other room to depart. I spat in the pan's face.'
'What? He offered you money for me?' cried Grushenka, hysterically. 'Is it true, Mitya? How dare you? Am I for sale?'
'Panie, panie!' yelled Mitya, 'she's pure and shining, and I have never been her lover! That's a lie...'
'How dare you defend me to him?' shrieked Grushenka. 'It wasn't virtue kept me pure, and it wasn't that I was afraid of Kuzma, but that I might hold up my head when I met him, and tell him he's a scoundrel. And he did actually refuse the money?'
'He took it! He took it!' cried Mitya; 'only he wanted to get the whole three thousand at once, and I could only give him seven hundred straight off.'
'I see: he heard I had money, and came here to marry me!'
'Pani Agrippina!' cried the little Pole. 'I'm--a knight, I'm--a nobleman, and not a lajdak. I came here to make you my wife and I find you a different woman, perverse and shameless.'
'Oh, go back where you came from! I'll tell them to turn you out and you'll be turned out,' cried Grushenka, furious. 'I've been a fool, a fool, to have been miserable these five years! And it wasn't for his sake, it was my anger made me miserable. And this isn't he at all! Was he like this? It might be his father! Where did you get your wig from? He was a falcon, but this is a gander. He used to laugh and sing to me.... And I've been crying for five years, damned fool, abject, shameless I was!
She sank back in her low chair and hid her face in her hands. At that instant the chorus of Mokroe began singing in the room on the left--a rollicking dance song.
'A regular Sodom!' Vrublevsky roared suddenly. 'Landlord, send the shameless hussies away!'
The landlord, who had been for some time past inquisitively peeping in at the door, hearing shouts and guessing that his guests were quarrelling, at once entered the room.
'What are you shouting for? D'you want to split your throat?' he said, addressing Vrublevsky, with surprising rudeness.
'Animal!' bellowed Pan Vrublevsky.
'Animal? And what sort of cards were you playing with just now? I gave you a pack and you hid it. You played with marked cards! I could send you to Siberia for playing with false cards, d'you know that, for it's just the same as false banknotes...
And going up to the sofa he thrust his fingers between the sofa back and the cushion, and pulled out an unopened pack of cards.
'Here's my pack unopened!'
He held it up and showed it to all in the room. 'From where I stood I saw him slip my pack away, and put his in place of it- you're a cheat and not a gentleman!'
'And I twice saw the pan change a card!' cried Kalganov.
'How shameful! How shameful!' exclaimed Grushenka, clasping her hands, and blushing for genuine shame. 'Good Lord, he's come to that!'
