Till night-time Litvinov did not leave his room; God knows whether he was expecting anything. About seven o’clock in the evening a lady in a black mantle with a veil on her face twice approached the steps of his hotel. Moving a little aside and gazing far away into the distance, she suddenly made a resolute gesture with her hand, and for the third time went towards the steps.... ‘Where are you going, Irina Pavlovna?’ she heard a voice utter with effort behind her. She turned with nervous swiftness.... Potugin ran up to her. She stopped short, thought a moment, and fairly flung herself towards him, took his arm, and drew him away. ‘Take me away, take me away,’ she repeated breathlessly. ‘What is it, Irina Pavlovna?’ he muttered in bewilderment. ‘Take me away,’ she reiterated with redoubled force, ‘if you don’t want me to remain for ever ... there.’ Potugin bent his head submissively, and hurriedly they went away together. The following morning early Litvinov was perfectly ready for his journey--into his room walked ... Potugin. He went up to him in silence, and in silence shook his hand. Litvinov, too, said nothing. Both of them wore long faces, and both vainly tried to smile. ‘I came to wish you a good journey,’ Potugin brought out at last. ‘And how did you know I was going to-day?’ asked Litvinov. Potugin looked on the floor around him.... ‘I became aware of it ... as you see. Our last conversation took in the end such a strange turn.... I did not want to part from you without expressing my sincere good feeling for you.’ ‘You have good feeling for me now ... when I am going away?’ Potugin looked mournfully at Litvinov. ‘Ah, Grigory Mihalitch, Grigory Mihalitch,’ he began with a short sigh, ‘it’s no time for that with us now, no time for delicacy or fencing. You don’t, so far as I have been able to perceive, take much interest in our national literature, and so, perhaps, you have no clear conception of Vaska Buslaev?’ ‘Of whom?’ ‘Of Vaska Buslaev, the hero of Novgorod ... in Kirsch-Danilov’s collection.’ ‘What Buslaev?’ said Litvinov, somewhat puzzled by the unexpected turn of the conversation. ‘I don’t know.’