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Chapter 8

           LizabethaProkofievnarestrainedherviolentangerbyagreateffort;perhapsshebitterlyregrettedherinterferenceinthematter;forthepresentshekeptsilence.Theprincefeltasveryshypeopleoftendoinsuchacase;hewassoashamedoftheconductofotherpeople,sohumiliatedforhisguests,thathedarednotlookthemintheface.Ptitsin,Varia,Gania,andLebedeffhimself,alllookedratherconfused.Strangerstill,Hippolyteandthe“sonofPavlicheff”alsoseemedslightlysurprised,andLebedeff’snephewwasobviouslyfarfrompleased.Theboxeralonewasperfectlycalm;hetwistedhismoustacheswithaffecteddignity,andifhiseyeswerecastdownitwascertainlynotinconfusion,butratherinnoblemodesty,asifhedidnotwishtobeinsolentinhistriumph.Itwasevidentthathewasdelightedwiththearticle.

           “Thedevilknowswhatitmeans,”growledIvanFedorovitch,underhisbreath;“itmusthavetakentheunitedwitsoffiftyfootmentowriteit.”

           “MayIaskyourreasonforsuchaninsultingsupposition,sir?”saidHippolyte,tremblingwithrage.

           “Youwilladmityourself,general,thatforanhonourableman,iftheauthorisanhonourableman,thatisananinsult,”growledtheboxersuddenly,withconvulsivejerkingsofhisshoulders.

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