“I wasn’t kissing at all,” said Akhineyev, confused; “who told you, you fool? I only--smacked my lips on account of--in consideration of my pleasure--at the sight of the fish.” “Tell that to some one else, not to me!” exclaimed Vankin, whose face expanded into a broad smile as he disappeared behind the door. Akhineyev blushed. “The devil knows what may be the outcome of this!” he thought. “He’ll go about tale-bearing now, the rascal. He’ll disgrace me before the whole town, the brute!” Akhineyev entered the parlor timidly and cast furtive glances to see what Vankin was doing. Vankin stood near the piano and, deftly bending down, whispered something to the inspector’s sister-in-law, who was laughing. “That’s about me!” thought Akhineyev. “About me, the devil take him! She believes him, she’s laughing. My God! No, that mustn’t be left like that. No. I’ll have to fix it so that no one shall believe him. I’ll speak to all of them, and he’ll remain a foolish gossip in the end.” Akhineyev scratched his head, and, still confused, walked up to Padekoi. “I was in the kitchen a little while ago, arranging things there for the supper,” he said to the Frenchman. “You like fish, I know, and I have a sturgeon just so big. About two yards. Ha, ha, ha! Yes, by the way, I have almost forgotten. There was a real anecdote about that sturgeon in the kitchen. I entered the kitchen a little while ago and wanted to examine the food. I glanced at the sturgeon and for pleasure, I smacked my lips--it was so piquant! And just at that moment the fool Vankin entered and says--ha, ha, ha--and says: ‘A-a! A-a-ah! You have been kissing here?’--with Marfa; just think of it--with the cook! What a piece of invention, that blockhead. The woman is ugly, she looks like a monkey, and he says we were kissing. What a queer fellow!” “Who’s a queer fellow?” asked Tarantulov, as he approached them. “I refer to Vankin. I went out into the kitchen--” The story of Marfa and the sturgeon was repeated. “That makes me laugh. What a queer fellow he is. In my opinion it is more pleasant to kiss the dog than to kiss Marfa,” added Akhineyev, and, turning around, he noticed Mzda. “We have been speaking about Vankin,” he said to him. “What a queer fellow. He entered the kitchen and noticed me standing beside Marfa, and immediately he began to invent different stories. ‘What?’ he says, ‘you have been kissing each other!’ He was drunk, so he must have been dreaming. ‘And I,’ I said, ‘I would rather kiss a duck than kiss Marfa. And I have a wife,’ said I, ‘you fool.’ He made me appear ridiculous.” “Who made you appear ridiculous?” inquired the teacher of religion, addressing Akhineyev. “Vankin. I was standing in the kitchen, you know, and looking at the sturgeon--” And so forth. In about half an hour all the guests knew the story about Vankin and the sturgeon.