"It's that protege of yours, that sweet Princess Drubetskaya, that Anna Mikhaylovna whom I would not take for a housemaid . . . the infamous, vile woman!"
"Do not let us lose any time . . ."
"Ah, don't talk to me! Last winter she wheedled herself in here and told the count such vile, disgraceful things about us, especially about Sophie — I can't repeat them — that it made the count quite ill and he would not see us for a whole fortnight. I know it was then he wrote this vile, infamous paper, but I thought the thing was invalid."
"We've got to it at last — why did you not tell me about it sooner?"
"It's in the inlaid portfolio that he keeps under his pillow," said the princess, ignoring his question."Now I know! Yes; if I have a sin, a great sin, it is hatred of that vile woman!" almost shrieked the princess, now quite changed."And what does she come worming herself in here for? But I will give her a piece of my mind. The time will come!"
