‘Give over playing the fool!’ Nikolai Artemyevitch cried with heat. ‘You forget yourself! Here you have another proof that I count for nothing in this house, nothing!’ ‘Anna Vassilyevna ill-uses you... poor fellow!’ said Shubin, stretching. ‘Ah, Nikolai Artemyevitch, we’re a pair of sinners! You had much better be getting a little present ready for Anna Vassilyevna. It’s her birthday in a day or two, and you know how she appreciates the least attention on your part.’ ‘Yes, yes,’ answered Nikolai Artemyevitch hastily. ‘I’m much obliged to you for reminding me. Of course, of course; to be sure. I have a little thing, a dressing-case, I bought it the other day at Rosenstrauch’s; but I don’t know really if it will do.’ ‘I suppose you bought it for her, the lady at Revel?’ ‘Why, certainly.--I had some idea.’ ‘Well, in that case, it will be sure to do.’ Shubin got up from his seat. ‘Are we going out this evening, Pavel Yakovlitch, eh?’ Nikolai Artemyevitch asked with an amicable leer. ‘Why yes, you are going to your club.’ ‘After the club... after the club.’ Shubin stretched himself again. ‘No, Nikolai Artemyevitch, I want to work to-morrow. Another time.’ And he walked off. Nikolai Artemyevitch scowled, walked twice up and down the room, took a velvet box with the dressing-case out of the bureau and looked at it a long while, rubbing it with a silk handkerchief. Then he sat down before a looking-glass and began carefully arranging his thick black hair, turning his head to right and to left with a dignified countenance, his tongue pressed into his cheek, never taking his eyes off his parting. Some one coughed behind his back; he looked round and saw the manservant who had brought him in his coffee. ‘What do you want?’ he asked him. ‘Nikolai Artemyevitch,’ said the man with a certain solemnity, ‘you are our master?’ ‘I know that; what next!’ ‘Nikolai Artemyevitch, graciously do not be angry with me; but I, having been in your honour’s service from a boy, am bound in dutiful devotion to bring you----’ ‘Well what is it?’ The man shifted uneasily as he stood. ‘You condescended to say, your honour,’ he began, ‘that your honour did not know where Elena Nikolaevna was pleased to go. I have information about that.’ ‘What lies are you telling, idiot?’ ‘That’s as your honour likes, but I saw our young lady three days ago, as she was pleased to go into a house!’ ‘Where? what? what house?’ ‘In a house, near Povarsky. Not far from here. I even asked the doorkeeper who were the people living there.’ Nikolai Artemyevitch stamped with his feet. ‘Silence, scoundrel! How dare you?... Elena Nikolaevna, in the goodness of her heart, goes to visit the poor and you... Be off, fool!’ The terrified servant was rushing to the door. ‘Stop!’ cried Nikolai Artemyevitch. ‘What did the doorkeeper say to you?’ ‘Oh no--nothing--he said nothing--He told me--a stu--student----’