"They're already shouting in all trumpets?"
"I mean, not at all so far, and, I confess, I've heard nothing whatsoever, but what can you do with people, especially when they've been burned out: Vox populi vox dei.[186] How long does it take to blow the stupidest rumor to the four winds?... But as a matter of fact you have nothing whatsoever to fear. Legally, you're completely in the right, and morally, too—because you didn't want it, eh? Did you? There's no evidence, just a coincidence ... Unless Fedka happens to recall your imprudent words that time at Kirillov's (and why did you say that then?), but that proves nothing at all, and we will cancel Fedka. I'm canceling him today..."
"And the bodies didn't burn at all?"
"Not a bit; that rascal couldn't arrange anything properly. But I'm glad at least that you're so calm... because though you're not guilty in any way, not even in thought, still, all the same. And, besides, you must agree that all this gives an excellent turn to your affairs: suddenly you're a free widower and at this very moment can marry a wonderful girl with enormous money, who, on top of that, is already in your hands. That's what a simple, crude coincidence of circumstances can do—eh?"
"Are you threatening me, foolish head?"
"Eh, enough, enough, right away I'm a foolish head! And what's this tone? Instead of being glad, you ... I came flying especially to forewarn you sooner ... And how am I going to threaten you? As if I need you under threat! I need your good will, and not out of fear. You are the light, the sun... It's I who am afraid of you with all my might, not you of me! I'm not Mavriky Nikolaevich... And, imagine, I'm flying here in a racing droshky, and there's Mavriky Nikolaevich by the garden fence, at the back corner of the garden ... in his greatcoat, soaked through, must have been sitting there all night! Wonders! How people can lose their minds!"
"Mavriky Nikolaevich? Is it true?"
"True, true. Sitting by the garden fence. From here—about three hundred steps from here, I suppose. I hurried to get past him, but he saw me. You didn't know? In that case I'm very glad I didn't forget to tell you. His kind is most dangerous if he happens to have a revolver, and, finally, the night, the slush, the natural irritation—because look what situation he's in now, ha, ha! Why do you think he's sitting there?"
"Waiting for Lizaveta Nikolaevna, of course."
"Ah-ha! But why should she go out to him? And ... in such rain... what a fool!"
"She will go out to him presently."
"Ehh! That's news! So then ... But listen, her affairs are completely changed now: what need does she have for Mavriky now? When you're a free widower and can marry her tomorrow? She doesn't know yet—leave it to me, I'll take care of it right away. Where is she, I must make her happy with the news."
"Happy?"
"What else! Let's go."
"And you think she won't guess about those corpses?" Stavrogin narrowed his eyes somehow peculiarly.
"Of course she won't," Pyotr Stepanovich picked up like a decided little fool, "because legally... Eh, you! But even if she does guess! With women it all gets so excellently shaded in—you still don't know women! Besides, it's entirely to her profit to marry you now, because she's made a scandal of herself, after all, and, besides, I told her a pile of stuff about the 'bark': I precisely thought one could affect her with the 'bark,' so that's the caliber of the girl. Don't worry, she'll step over those little corpses all right, and la-di-da!—the more so as you're perfectly, perfectly innocent, isn't that so? She'll just stash those little corpses away so as to needle you later on, say in the second year of your marriage. Every woman on her way to the altar keeps something like that stored up from her husband's old days, but then ... what will it be like in a year? Ha, ha, ha!"
"If you came in a racing droshky, take her now to Mavriky Nikolaevich. She said just now that she couldn't stand me and was going to leave me, and she certainly won't accept my carriage."
"Ah-ha! She's really leaving? What might have brought that about?" Pyotr Stepanovich gave a silly look.
"She guessed somehow during the night that I don't love her at all... which, of course, she's always known."
"But don't you love her?" Pyotr Stepanovich picked up, with a look of boundless amazement. "But in that case why did you keep her here when she came yesterday, and not inform her directly, like a noble man, that you didn't love her? That is terribly mean on your part; and what a mean position you put me in before her!"
Stavrogin suddenly laughed.
"I'm laughing at my ape," he clarified at once.
"Ah! You guessed I was clowning," Pyotr Stepanovich also burst into terribly gay laughter. "It was to make you laugh! Imagine, as soon as you came out to me, I guessed at once from your face that you'd had a 'misfortune.' Maybe even a complete fiasco, eh? Now, I'll bet," he cried, almost choking with delight, "that you spent the whole night side by side on chairs in the drawing room, and argued about some most lofty nobility the whole precious time ... Excuse me, excuse me; what do I care: I already knew for sure yesterday that it would end with foolishness between you. I brought her to you solely to amuse you, and to prove that with me you won't be bored; I'll be useful in that line three hundred times; I generally like being pleasant with people. And if you don't need her now, which is what I was figuring on, what I came for, then..."
"So you brought her here only for my amusement?"
"What else?" "And not to make me kill my wife?"
"Ah-ha, but did you kill her, really? What a tragic man!"
"It makes no difference. You killed her."
"Did I, really? I'm telling you, I didn't have a drop to do with it. However, you're beginning to worry me..."
"Go on. You said: 'If you don't need her now, then...’”
"Permit me, of course! I'll get her excellently married to Mavriky Nikolaevich, whom, incidentally, I did not plant there in your garden, don't take that into your head as well. In fact, I'm afraid of him now. In the racing droshky, you say; but I really just snicked by him... what if he does indeed have a revolver?... It's a good thing I brought mine along. Here it is" (he took a revolver from his pocket, showed it, and immediately put it back again). "I brought it along on account of the far distance ... Anyhow, I'll fix it up for you in a second: her little heart is precisely aching for Mavriky now ... at least it should be... and you know—by God, I'm even slightly sorry for her now! I'll put her together with Mavriky, and she'll immediately start remembering you—praising you to him and abusing him to his face—a woman's heart! Well, so you're laughing again? I'm terribly glad you've cheered up so much. Well, then, let's go. I'll start straight off with Mavriky, and those... the murdered ones... you know, why don't we just not mention them for now? She'll find out later anyway."
"Find out what? Who has been murdered? What did you say about Mavriky Nikolaevich?" Liza suddenly opened the door.
"Ah! you've been eavesdropping?"
"What did you just say about Mavriky Nikolaevich? Has he been murdered?"
"Ah! so you didn't quite hear! Calm yourself, Mavriky Nikolaevich is alive and well, which you can instantly ascertain for yourself, because he's here on the roadside, by the garden fence... and spent the whole night there, it seems; he's soaked through, in his greatcoat ... I drove by, he saw me."
"That isn't true. You said 'murdered'... Who has been murdered?" she insisted, with painful mistrust.
"Only my wife, her brother Lebyadkin, and their housekeeper have been murdered," Stavrogin declared firmly.
Liza gave a start and turned terribly pale.
"A brutal case, a strange case, Lizaveta Nikolaevna, a most stupid case of robbery," Pyotr Stepanovich began rattling at once, "just robbery, taking advantage of the fire; it's the doing of the brigand Fedka the Convict, and that fool Lebyadkin, who was showing everyone his money ... I came flying to tell you... like a smack on the head. Stavrogin could barely keep his feet when I told him. We were discussing whether to tell you now or not."