"You tell me that I am mistaken. But I tell you all
the same that he cares for no one." She jerked her head up. "Don't you
bring that girl here. That's what you have been told to do--to bring
that girl here. Listen to me; you had better tie a stone round her neck
and throw her into the lake."
Razumov had a sensation of chill and gloom, as if a heavy cloud had
passed over the sun.
"The girl?" he said. "What have I to do with her?"
"But you have been told to bring Nathalie Haldin here. Am I not right?
Of course I am right. I was not in the room, but I know. I know Peter
Ivanovitch sufficiently well. He is a great man. Great men are horrible.
Well, that's it. Have nothing to do with her. That's the best you
can do, unless you want her to become like me--disillusioned!
Disillusioned!"
"Like you," repeated Razumov, glaring at her face, as devoid of all
comeliness of feature and complexion as the most miserable beggar is
of money. He smiled, still feeling chilly: a peculiar sensation which
annoyed him. "Disillusioned as to Peter Ivanovitch! Is that all you have
lost?"
She declared, looking frightened, but with immense conviction, "Peter
Ivanovitch stands for everything." Then she added, in another tone,
"Keep the girl away from this house."
"And are you absolutely inciting me to disobey Peter Ivanovitch just
because--because you are disillusioned?"
She began to blink.
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