Fyodorovna. When she has done with it, perhaps.'
'Who is going to wear it after Praskovya Fyodorovna? It is very odd on your part to put strangers before your friends.'
'But you know she is my own cousin.'
'A queer sort of cousin, only on your husband's side. … No, Sofya Ivanovna, you needn't talk to me; it seems you want to put a slight upon me. … It's clear that you are tired of me; I see you want to give up being friends with me.'
Poor Sofya Ivanovna did not know what to do. She felt she had put herself between the devil and the deep sea. That is what comes of bragging! She felt ready to bite off her silly tongue.
'Well, what news of our charming gentleman?' the lady agreeable in all respects asked.
'Ah, my goodness! Why am I sitting here like this! What an idea! Do you know what I have come to you about, Anna Grigoryevna?' Here the visitor took a deep breath, the words were ready to fly like hawks one after another out of her mouth, and no one less inhuman than her bosom friend could have been so ruthless as to stop her.
'You may praise him up and say all sorts of nice things of him,' she said with more vivacity than usual, 'but I tell you straight out and I will tell him to his face, that he is a good-for-nothing fellow, good-for-nothing, good-for-nothing.'
