Nekhliudof turned scarlet. He sprang up from the table. "What's the need of calling me?" The landlord is standing at the door. Says he, "I can't trust you any more, unless you settle my little bill." "Well, didn't I tell you that I would pay the first of the month?" "That will be all very well," says the landlord, "but I can't be all the time giving credit, and having no settlement. There are more than ten thousand rubles of debts outstanding now," says he. "Well, that'll do, _monshoor_, you know that you can trust me! Send the bottle, and I assure you that I will pay you very soon." And he hurried back. "What was it? Why did they call you out?" asked the hussar. "Oh, some one wanted to ask me a question." "Now it would be a good time," says the hussar, "to have a little warm wine to drink." "Simon, hurry up!" Simon came back, but still no wine, nothing. Too bad! He left the table, and came to me. "For God's sake," says he, "Petrushka, let me have six rubles!" He was pale as a sheet. "No, sir," says I: "by God, you owe me quite too much now." "I will give forty rubles for six, in a week's time." "If only I had it," says I, "I should not think of refusing you, but I haven't." What do you think! He rushed away, his teeth set, his fist doubled up, and ran down the corridor like one mad, and all at once he gave himself a knock on the forehead. "O my God!" says he, "what has it come to?" But he did not return to the dining-room; he jumped into a carriage, and drove away. Didn't we have our laugh over it! The hussar asks,-- "Where is the gentleman who was dining with me?" "He has gone," said some one. "Where has he gone? What message did he leave?" "He didn't leave any; he just took to his carriage, and went off." "That's a fine way of entertaining a man!" says he. Now, thinks I to myself, it'll be a long time before he comes again after this; that is, on account of this scandal. But no. On the next day he came about evening. He came into the billiard-room. He had a sort of a box in his hand. Took off his overcoat. "Now let us have a game," says he. He looked out from under his eyebrows, rather fierce like. We played a game. "That's enough now," says he: "go and bring me a pen and paper; I must write a letter." Not thinking any thing, not suspecting any thing, I bring some paper, and put it on the table in the little room. "It's all ready, sir," says I. "Very good." He sat down at the table. He kept on writing and writing, and muttering to himself all the time: then he jumps up, and, frowning, says, "Look and see if my carriage has come yet." It was on a Friday, during carnival time, and so there weren't any of the customers on hand; they were all at some ball. I went to see about the carriage, and just as I was going out of the door, "Petrushka! Petrushka!" he shouted, as if something suddenly frightened him. I turn round. I see he's pale as a sheet, standing here and looking at me. "Did you call me, sir?" says I.