RUDIN
‘Well! And what did she tell you, if I may know?’
‘She told me that far one whole morning you would make no reply to all her questions but “what? what?” and always in the same squeaking voice.’
Pigasov laughed.
‘But that was a happy idea, you’ll allow, Alexandra Pavlovna, eh?’
‘Admirable, indeed! Can you really have behaved so rudely to a lady, African Semenitch?’
‘What! Do you regard Elena Antonovna as a lady?’
‘What do you regard her as?’
‘A drum, upon my word, an ordinary drum such as they beat with sticks.’
‘Oh,’ interrupted Alexandra Pavlovna, anxious to change the conversation, ‘they tell me one may congratulate you.’
‘Upon what?’
‘The end of your lawsuit. The Glinovsky meadows are yours.’
‘Yes, they are mine,’ replied Pigasov gloomily.
‘You have been trying to gain this so many years, and now you seem discontented.’
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