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“
Oh
,
mercy
on
us
—
Marfa
Petrovna
Svidrigaïlov
.
I
wrote
you
so
much
about
her
.
”
“
A
-
a
-
h
!
Yes
,
I
remember
.
.
.
.
So
she
’
s
dead
!
Oh
,
really
?
”
he
roused
himself
suddenly
,
as
if
waking
up
.
“
What
did
she
die
of
?
”
“
Only
imagine
,
quite
suddenly
,
”
Pulcheria
Alexandrovna
answered
hurriedly
,
encouraged
by
his
curiosity
.
“
On
the
very
day
I
was
sending
you
that
letter
!
Would
you
believe
it
,
that
awful
man
seems
to
have
been
the
cause
of
her
death
.
They
say
he
beat
her
dreadfully
.
”
“
Why
,
were
they
on
such
bad
terms
?
”
he
asked
,
addressing
his
sister
.
“
Not
at
all
.
Quite
the
contrary
indeed
.
With
her
,
he
was
always
very
patient
,
considerate
even
.
In
fact
,
all
those
seven
years
of
their
married
life
he
gave
way
to
her
,
too
much
so
indeed
,
in
many
cases
.
All
of
a
sudden
he
seems
to
have
lost
patience
.
”
“
Then
he
could
not
have
been
so
awful
if
he
controlled
himself
for
seven
years
?
You
seem
to
be
defending
him
,
Dounia
?
”
“
No
,
no
,
he
’
s
an
awful
man
!
I
can
imagine
nothing
more
awful
!
”
Dounia
answered
,
almost
with
a
shudder
,
knitting
her
brows
,
and
sinking
into
thought
.
“
That
had
happened
in
the
morning
,
”
Pulcheria
Alexandrovna
went
on
hurriedly
.
“
And
directly
afterwards
she
ordered
the
horses
to
be
harnessed
to
drive
to
the
town
immediately
after
dinner
.
She
always
used
to
drive
to
the
town
in
such
cases
.
She
ate
a
very
good
dinner
,
I
am
told
.
.
.
.
”
“
After
the
beating
?
”
“
That
was
always
her
.
.
.
