on us!”
“One more question, the last: do you know the surname of the husband of your … that is, I mean the lady who is the object of your devotion?”
“Of course I do; it is not your name, and that is all about it.”
“Why, how do you know my name?”
“But, I say, you had better go; you are losing time; she might go away a thousand times. Why, what do you want? Your lady’s in a fox cape and a hood, while mine is wearing a plaid cloak and a pale blue velvet hat…. What more do you want? What else?”
“A pale blue velvet hat! She has a plaid cloak and a pale blue velvet hat!” cried the pertinacious man, instantly turning back again.
“Oh, hang it all! Why, that may well be…. And, indeed, my lady does not come here!”
“Where is she, then — your lady?”
“You want to know that? What is it to you?”
“I must own, I am still….”
“Tfoo! Mercy on us! Why, you have no sense of decency, none at all. Well, my lady has friends here, on the third storey looking into the street. Why, do you want me to tell you their names?”
“My goodness, I have friends too, who live on the third storey, and their windows look on to the street…. General….”
“General!”
“A general. If you like I will tell you what general: well, then … General Polovitsyn.”
“You don’t say so! No, that is not the same! (Oh, damnation, damnation!).”
“Not the same?”
“No, not the same.”
Both were silent, looking at each other in perplexity.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” exclaimed the young man, shaking off his stupefaction and air of uncertainty with vexation.
The gentleman was in a fluster.
“I … I must own….”
“Come, allow me, allow me; let us talk more sensibly now. It concerns us both. Explain to me … whom do you know there?”
“You mean, who are my friends?”
“Yes, your friends….”
“Well, you see … you see!… I see from your eyes that I have guessed right!”
“Hang it all! No, no, hang it all! Are you blind? Why, I am standing here before you, I am not with her. Oh, well! I don’t care, whether you say so or not!”
Twice in his fury the young man turned on his heel with a contemptuous wave of his hand.
“Oh, I meant nothing, I assure you. As an honourable man I will tell you all about it. At first my wife used to come here alone. They are relatives of hers; I had no suspicions; yesterday I met his Excellency: he told me that he had moved three weeks ago from here to another flat, and my wi … that is, not mine, but somebody else’s (the husband’s on the Voznesensky Bridge) … that lady had told me that she was with them the day before yesterday, in this flat I mean … and the cook told me that his Excellency’s flat had been taken by a young man called Bobynitsyn….”
“Oh, damn it all, damn it all!…”
“My dear sir, I am in terror, I am in alarm!”
“Oh, hang it! What is it to me that you are in terror and in alarm? Ah! Over there … some one flitted by … over there….”
“Where, where? You just shout, ‘Ivan Andreyitch,’ and I will run….”
“All right, all right. Oh, confound it! Ivan Andreyitch!”
“Here I am,” cried Ivan Andreyitch, returning, utterly breathless. “What is it, what is it? Where?”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean anything … I wanted to know what this lady’s name is.”
“Glaf….”
“Glafira?”
“No, not Glafira…. Excuse me, I cannot tell you her name.”
As he said this the worthy man was as white as a sheet.
“Oh, of course it is not Glafira, I know it is not Glafira, and mine’s not Glafira; but with whom can she be?”
“Where?”
“There! Oh, damn it, damn it!” (The young man was in such a fury that he could not stand still.)
“There, you see! How did you know that her name was Glafira?”
“Oh, damn it all, really! To have a bother with you, too! Why, you say — that yours is not called Glafira!…”
“My dear sir, what a way to speak!”
“Oh, the devil! As though that mattered now! What is she? Your wife?”
“No — that is, I am not married…. But I would not keep flinging the devil at a respectable man in trouble, a man, I will not say worthy of esteem, but at any rate a man of education. You keep saying, ‘The devil, the devil!’”
“To be sure, the devil take it; so there you are, do you understand?”
“You are blinded by anger, and I say nothing. Oh, dear, who is that?”
“Where?”
There was a noise and a sound of laughter; two pretty girls ran down the steps; both the men rushed up to them.
“Oh, what manners! What do you want?”
“Where are you shoving?”
“They are not the right ones!”
“Aha, so you’ve pitched on the wrong ones! Cab!”
“Where do you want to go, mademoiselle?”
“To Pokrov. Get in, Annushka; I’ll take you.”
“Oh, I’ll sit on the other side; off! Now, mind you drive quickly.”
The cab drove off.
“Where did they come from?”
“Oh, dear, oh, dear! Hadn’t we better go there?”
“Where?”
“Why, to Bobynitsyn’s….”
“No, that’s out of the question.”
“Why?”
“I
