“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.”

V

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