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She moved her body forward and said with alarm:
"Oh, cease."
"No, I won't, I will speak!"
"I know what you want to say."
"You don't know it all!" said Foma, threateningly, rising to his
feet. "But I know everything about you--everything."
"Yes? Then the better it is for me," said Medinskaya, calmly.
She also arose from the couch, as though about to go away
somewhere, but after a few seconds she again seated herself on the
couch. Her face was serious, her lips were tightly compressed, but
her eyes were lowered, and Foma could not see their expression. He
thought that when he told her, "I know everything about you!" she
would be frightened, she would feel ashamed and confused, would ask
his forgiveness for having made sport of him. Then he would embrace
her and forgive her. But that was not the case; it was he who was
confused by her calmness. He looked at her, searching for words to
resume his speech, but found them not.
"It is better," she repeated firmly and drily. "So you have learned
everything, have you? And, of course, you've censured me, as I
deserve.


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