My grandmother nodded her head up and down. . . .

"Madam," a hoarse almost stifled voice was heard suddenly. I looked round. Baburin's face was red . . dark red; under his overhanging brows could be seen little sharp points of light. . . . There was no doubt about it; it was he, it was Baburin, who had uttered the word "Madam."

My grandmother too looked round, and turned her eyeglass from Yermil to Baburin.

"Who is that . . . speaking?" she articulated slowly . . . through her nose. Baburin moved slightly forward.

"Madam," he began, "it is I . . . . I venture . . . I imagine . . . I make bold to submit to your honour that you are making a mistake in acting as . . . as you are pleased to act at this moment."

"That is?" my grandmother said, in the same voice, not removing her eyeglass.

"I take the liberty . . ." Baburin went on distinctly, uttering every word though with obvious effort--"I am referring to the case of this lad who is being sent away to a settlement . . . for no fault of his. Such arrangements, I venture to submit, lead to dissatisfaction, and to other--which God forbid!--consequences, and are nothing else than a transgression of the powers allowed to seignorial proprietors."

"And where have you studied, pray?" my