“Friends: Athanase Georgevitch, Ivan Petrovitch,
Thaddeus the timber-merchant (peat boots), Michael
and Boris (fine shoes). Matrena, sincere love,
blundering heroism. Natacha unknown. Against
Natacha: Never there during the attacks.
At Moscow at the time of the bomb in the sleigh,
no one knows where she was, and it is she who should
have accompanied the general (detail furnished by
Koupriane that Matrena generously kept back).
The night of the bouquet is the only night Natacha
has slept away from the house. Coincidence of
the disappearance of the nails and the presence all
alone on the ground-floor of Natacha, in case, of course,
Matrena did not pull them out herself. For Natacha:
Her eyes when she looks at her father.”
And this bizarre phrase:
“We mustn’t be rash. This evening
I have not yet spoken to Matrena Petrovna about the
little hat-pin. That little hat-pin is the greatest
relief of my life.”
BY ROULETABILLE’S ORDER THE GENERAL PROMENADES
“Good morning, my dear little familiar spirit.
The general slept splendidly the latter part of the
night. He did not touch his narcotic.
I am sure it is that dreadful mixture that gives him
such frightful dreams. And you, my dear little
friend, you have not slept an instant. I know
it. I felt you going everywhere about the house
like a little mouse. Ah, it seems good, so good.
I slept so peacefully, hearing the subdued movement
of your little steps. Thanks for the sleep you
have given me, little friend.”
Matrena talked on to Rouletabille, whom she had found
the morning after the nightmare tranquilly smoking
his pipe in the garden.
“Ah, ah, you smoke a pipe. Now you do
certainly look exactly like a dear little domovoi-doukh.
See how much you are alike. He smokes just
like you. Nothing new, eh? You do not look
very bright this morning. You are worn out.
I have just arranged the little guest-chamber for
you, the only one we have, just behind mine.
Your bed is waiting for you. Is there anything
you need? Tell me. Everything here is at
your service.”
“I’m not in need of anything, madame,”
said the young man smilingly, after this outpouring
of words from the good, heroic dame.
“How can you say that, dear child? You
will make yourself sick. I want you to understand
that I wish you to rest. I want to be a mother
to you, if you please, and you must obey me, my child.
Have you had breakfast yet this morning? If
you do not have breakfast promptly mornings, I will
think you are annoyed. I am so annoyed that
you have heard the secret of the night. I have
been afraid that you would want to leave at once and
for good, and that you would have mistaken ideas about
the general. There is not a better man in the
world than Feodor, and he must have a good, a very
good conscience to dare, without fail, to perform such
