would be quite as well for your Excellency to turn your attention to him too.'
'Do you know these people . . . Solomin . . . and what's his name—Nezhdanov?' the governor questioned Markelov in a rather authoritative nasal.
Markelov's nostrils dilated vindictively.
'And do you, your Excellency, know Confucius and Livy?'
The governor turned away.
'Il n'y a pas moyen de causer avec cet homme,' he observed, shrugging his shoulders. 'Baron, here, please!'
The adjutant darted up to him; and Paklin, seizing the opportunity, limped hobbling up to Sipyagin.
'What are you doing?' he whispered; 'do you want to ruin your own niece? Why, she's with him, with Nezhdanov! . . .'
'I am ruining no one, sir,' Sipyagin responded aloud; 'I am obeying the dictates of my conscience, and———'
'And your wife, my sister, who keeps you under her thumb?' Markelov put in quite as loudly.
Sipyagin, at the phrase, did not turn a hair. . . . It was too much beneath him!
'Listen,' Paklin continued, whispering—his whole body was shaking with excitement and
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