Her figure, though, was young enough. He observed that she did not
appear starved, but rather as if she had been fed on unwholesome scraps
and leavings of plates.
Razumov smiled amiably and moved out of her way. She turned her head to
keep her scared eyes on him.
"I know what you have been told in there," she affirmed, without
preliminaries. Her tone, in contrast with her manner, had an
unexpectedly assured character which put Razumov at his ease.
"Do you? You must have heard all sorts of talk on many occasions in
there."
She varied her phrase, with the same incongruous effect of positiveness.
"I know to a certainty what you have been told to do."
"Really?" Razumov shrugged his shoulders a little. He was about to pass
on with a bow, when a sudden thought struck him. "Yes. To be sure! In
your confidential position you are aware of many things," he murmured,
looking at the cat.
That animal got a momentary convulsive hug from the lady companion.
"Everything was disclosed to me a long time ago," she said.
"Everything," Razumov repeated absently.
"Peter Ivanovitch is an awful despot," she jerked out.
Razumov went on studying the stripes on the grey fur of the cat.
"An iron will is an integral part of such a temperament. How else could
he be a leader? And I think that you are mistaken in--"
"There!" she cried.
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