A puree of potatoes and a dish of pork were next served, in honor of the guest. Then some cheese, and that was all. No coffee. When Varajou saw that he would have to spend the evening tete-a-tete with his sister, endure her reproaches, listen to her sermons, without even a glass of liqueur to help him to swallow these remonstrances, he felt that he could not stand the torture, and declared that he was obliged to go to the police station to have something attended to regarding his leave of absence. And he made his escape at seven o'clock. He had scarcely reached the street before he gave himself a shake like a dog coming out of the water. He muttered: “Heavens, heavens, heavens, what a galley slave's life!” And he set out to look for a cafe, the best in the town. He found it on a public square, behind two gas lamps. Inside the cafe, five or six men, semi-gentlemen, and not noisy, were drinking and chatting quietly, leaning their elbows on the small tables, while two billiard players walked round the green baize, where the balls were hitting each other as they rolled. One heard them counting: “Eighteen-nineteen. No luck. Oh, that's a good stroke! Well played! Eleven. You should have played on the red. Twenty. Froze! Froze! Twelve. Ha! Wasn't I right?” Varajou ordered: “A demi-tasse and a small decanter of brandy, the best.” Then he sat down and waited for it. He was accustomed to spending his evenings off duty with his companions, amid noise and the smoke of pipes. This silence, this quiet, exasperated him. He began to drink; first the coffee, then the brandy, and asked for another decanter. He now wanted to laugh, to shout, to sing, to fight some one. He said to himself: “Gee, I am half full. I must go and have a good time.” And he thought he would go and look for some girls to amuse him. He called the waiter: “Hey, waiter.” “Yes, sir.” “Tell me, where does one amuse oneself here?” The man looked stupid, and replied: “I do not know, sir. Here, I suppose!” “How do you mean here? What do you call amusing oneself, yourself?” “I do not know, sir, drinking good beer or good wine.” “Ah, go away, dummy, how about the girls?” “The girls, ah! ah!” “Yes, the girls, where can one find any here?” “Girls?” “Why, yes, girls!” The boy approached and lowering his voice, said: “You want to know where they live?” “Why, yes, the devil!” “You take the second street to the left and then the first to the right. It is number fifteen.” “Thank you, old man. There is something for you.” “Thank you, sir.” And Varajou went out of the cafe, repeating, “Second to the left, first to the right, number 15.” But at the end of a few seconds he thought, “second to the left yes. But on leaving the cafe must I walk to the right or the left? Bah, it cannot be helped, we shall see.”