“So do the tables and chairs.”
He understood that the bitterness accumulated in the heart of that
helpless creature had got into her veins, and, like some subtle poison,
had decomposed her fidelity to that hateful pair. It was a great piece
of luck for him, he reflected; because women are seldom venal after the
manner of men, who can be bought for material considerations. She would
be a good ally, though it was not likely that she was allowed to hear
as much as the tables and chairs of the Chateau Borel. That could not be
expected. But still.... And, at any rate, she could be made to talk.
When she looked up her eyes met the fixed stare of Razumov, who began to
speak at once.
“Well, well, dear...but upon my word, I haven’t the pleasure of
knowing your name yet. Isn’t it strange?”
For the first time she made a movement of the shoulders.
“Is it strange? No one is told my name. No one cares. No one talks to
me, no one writes to me. My parents don’t even know if I’m alive. I have
no use for a name, and I have almost forgotten it myself.”
Razumov murmured gravely, “Yes, but still...”