'A feeling . . . of propriety,'
Valentina Mihalovna paused; nothing but the light tap of her fingers on the chair-back could be heard in the room.
'How do you consider I have been careless of propriety?' asked Marianna.
Valentina Mihalovna shrugged her shoulders.
"'Ma chere, vous n'êtes plus une enfant, you understand me perfectly. Can you suppose your behaviour could remain a secret to me, to Anna Zaharovna, to the whole household, in fact? Besides, you have not taken much pains to keep it a secret. You have simply acted in bravado. Boris Andreitch alone has, perhaps, not observed it.. . . He is absorbed in other matters of more interest and importance. But, except for him, your conduct is known to all—all!'
Marianna grew steadily paler and paler.
'I would ask you, Valentina Mihalovna, to be more definite in your expressions. With what precisely are you displeased?'
'L'insolente!' thought Madame Sipyagin. She still restrained herself, however.
'You wish to know what I am displeased about, Marianna? Certainly. I am displeased at your prolonged interviews with a young man who by birth, by education, and by social position is far beneath you. I am displeased
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