"This increases your collection, eh ?" Andrey Antonovitch flushed crimson; his face seemed to twitch.
"Leave off, leave off at once!" he cried, trembling with rage.

"And don't you dare...

sir..." "What's the matter with you?
You seem to be angry!" "Allow me to inform you, sir, that I've no intention of putting up with your _sans facon_ henceforward, and I beg you to remember..." "Why, damn it all, he is in earnest!" "Hold your tongue, hold your tongue"-- Von Lembke stamped on the carpet--"and don't dare..." God knows what it might have come to.

Alas, there was one circumstance involved in the matter of which neither Pyotr Stepanovitch nor even Yulia Mihailovna herself had any idea.

The luckless Andrey Antonovitch had been so greatly upset during the last few days that he had begun to be secretly jealous of his wife and Pyotr Stepanovitch.