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"You may both be mistaken about Rodya," Pulcheria Alexandrovna

remarked, slightly piqued. "I am not talking of our present

difficulty, Dounia. What Pyotr Petrovitch writes in this letter

and what you and I have supposed may be mistaken, but you can't

imagine, Dmitri Prokofitch, how moody and, so to say, capricious

he is. I never could depend on what he would do when he was only

fifteen. And I am sure that he might do something now that nobody

else would think of doing... Well, for instance, do you know how

a year and a half ago he astounded me and gave me a shock that

nearly killed me, when he had the idea of marrying that

girl--what was her name--his landlady's daughter?"

"Did you hear about that affair?" asked Avdotya Romanovna.