all this with great animation, without giving expression, however, to any
special sentimentality, and interspersing his narrative with the questions,
'What is it to you?' and 'Why do you ask?' when Aratov, who listened to him
with devouring attention, kept asking for more and more details. All was
told at last, and Kupfer was silent, rewarding himself for his exertions
with a cigar.

'And why did she take poison?' asked Aratov. 'In the paper it was
stated....'

Kupfer waved his hand. 'Well ... that I can't say ... I don't know. But the
paper tells a lie. Clara's conduct was exemplary ... no love affairs of any
kind.... And indeed how should there be with her pride! She was proud--as
Satan himself--and unapproachable! A headstrong creature! Hard as rock!
You'll hardly believe it--though I knew her so well--I never saw a tear in
her eyes!'

'But I have,' Aratov thought to himself.

'But there's one thing,' continued Kupfer, 'of late I noticed a great
change in her: she grew so dull, so silent, for hours together there was
no getting a word out of her. I asked her even, "Has any one offended you,
Katerina Semyonovna?" For I knew her temper; she could never swallow an
affront! But she was silent, and there was no doing anything with her! Even
her triumphs on the stage didn't cheer her up; bouquets fairly showered
on her ... but she didn't even smile! She gave one look at the gold
inkstand--and put it aside! She used to complain that no one had written
the real part for her, as she conceived it. And her singing she'd given up
altogether. It was my fault, my dear boy!... I told her that you thought
she'd no musical knowledge. But for all that ... why she poisoned