Volochine bowed slightly. “We must make a note of that!” observed the tipsy Ivanoff, much to Sarudine’s horror. “Pray sit down, Pavel Lvovitsch. Would you like some wine or some beer?” Volochine sat down carefully in an arm-chair and his white, immaculate form stood out sharply against the dingy oil-cloth cover. “Please don’t trouble. I just came to see you for a moment,” he said, somewhat coldly, as he surveyed the company. “How’s that? I’ll send for some white wine. You like white wine, don’t you?” asked Sarudine, and he hurried out. “Why on earth does the fool want to come here today?” he thought, irritably, as he sent the orderly to fetch wine. “This Volochine will say such things about me in Petersburg that I shan’t be able to get a footing in any decent house.” Meanwhile Volochine was taking stock of the others with undisguised curiosity, feeling that he himself was immeasurably superior. There was a look in his little glassy, grey eyes of unfeigned interest, as if he were being shown a collection of wild beasts. He was specially attracted by Sanine’s height, his powerful physique, and his dress. “An interesting type, that! He must be pretty strong!” he thought, with the genuine admiration of the weakling for the athlete. In fact, he began to speak to Sanine but the latter, leaning against the window- sill, was looking out at the garden. Volochine stopped short; the very sound of his own squeaky voice vexed him. “Hooligans!” he thought. At this moment Sarudine came back. He sat down next to Volochine and asked questions about St. Petersburg, and also about the latter’s factory, so as to let the others know what a very wealthy and important person his visitor was. The handsome face of this sturdy animal now wore an expression of petty vanity and self-importance. “Everything’s the same with us, just the same!” replied Volochine, in a bored tone of voice. “How is it with you?” “Oh! I’m just vegetating,” said Sarudine with a mournful sigh. Volochine was silent, and looked up disdainfully at the ceiling where the green reflections from the garden wavered. “Our one and only amusement is this,” continued Sarudine, as with a gesture he indicated the cards, the bottles, and his guests. “Yes, yes!” drawled Volochine; to Sarudine his tone seemed to say, “and you’re no better, either.” “I think I must be going now. I’m staying at the hotel on the boulevard. I may see you again!” Volochine rose to take his leave. At this moment the orderly entered and saluting in slovenly fashion, said, “The young lady is there, sir.” Sarudine started. “What?” he cried. “She has come, sir.” “Ah! yes, I know,” said Sarudine. He glanced about him nervously, feeling a sudden presentiment. “I wonder if it’s Lida?” he thought. “Impossible!” Volochine’s inquisitive eyes twinkled. His puny little body in its loose white clothes seemed to acquire new vitality. “Well, good-bye!” he said, laughing. “Up to your old tricks, as usual! Ha! Ha!”