“It is a pity, Dmitri Ivanovitch, that you should think of doing this,” she said.  “Well, supposing you go abroad, still you’ll require a place of residence again.”

“You are mistaken in your thoughts, Agraphena Petrovna; I am not going abroad.  If I go on a journey, it will be to quite a different place.”  He suddenly blushed very red.  “Yes, I must tell her,” he thought; “no hiding; everybody must be told.”

“A very strange and important thing happened to me yesterday.  Do you remember my Aunt Mary Ivanovna’s Katusha?”

“Oh, yes.  Why, I taught her how to sew.”

“Well, this Katusha was tried in the Court and I was on the jury.”

“Oh, Lord!  What a pity!” cried Agraphena Petrovna.  “What was she being tried for?”

“Murder; and it is I have done it all.”

“Well, now this is very strange; how could you do it all?”

“Yes, I am the cause of it all; and it is this that has altered all my plans.”

“What difference can it make to you?”

“This difference:  that I, being the cause of her getting on to that path, must do all I can to help her.”

“That is just according to your own good pleasure; you are not particularly in fault there.  It happens to every one, and if one’s reasonable, it all gets smoothed over and forgotten,” she said, seriously and severely.  “Why should you place it to your account?  There’s no need.  I had already heard before that she had strayed from the right path.  Well, whose fault is it?”

“Mine! that’s why I want to put it right.”

“It is hard to put right.”

“That is my business.  But if you are thinking about yourself, then I will tell you that, as mamma expressed the wish—­”

“I am not thinking about myself.  I have been so bountifully treated by the dear defunct, that I desire nothing.  Lisenka” (her married niece) “has been inviting me, and I shall go to her when I am not wanted any longer.  Only it is a pity you should take this so to heart; it happens to everybody.”

“Well, I do not think so.  And I still beg that you will help me let this lodging and put away the things.  And please do not be angry with me.  I am very, very grateful to you for all you have done.”

And, strangely, from the moment Nekhludoff realised that it was he who was so bad and disgusting to himself, others were no longer disgusting to him; on the contrary, he felt a kindly respect for Agraphena Petrovna, and for Corney.

He would have liked to go and confess to Corney also, but Corney’s manner was so insinuatingly deferential that he had not the resolution to do it.