Litvinov would have flown into a rage, but for a dead load lying on his heart. He glanced at Bindasov and turned away without speaking. ‘I tell you Gubaryov’s here,’ shrieked Madame Suhantchikov, her eyes fairly starting out of her head. Litvinov did not stir a muscle. ‘Come, do listen, Litvinov,’ Bambaev began at last, ‘there’s not only Gubaryov here, there’s a whole phalanx here of the most splendid, most intellectual young fellows, Russians--and all studying the natural sciences, all of the noblest convictions! Really you must stop here, if it’s only for them. Here, for instance, there’s a certain ... there, I’ve forgotten his surname, but he’s a genius! simply!’ ‘Oh, let him be, let him be, Rostislav Ardalionovitch,’ interposed Madame Suhantchikov, ‘let him be! You see what sort of a fellow he is; and all his family are the same. He has an aunt; at first she struck me as a sensible woman, but the day before yesterday I went to see her here--she had only just before gone to Baden and was back here again before you could look round--well, I went to see her; began questioning her.... Would you believe me, I couldn’t get a word out of the stuck-up thing. Horrid aristocrat!’ Poor Kapitolina Markovna an aristocrat! Could she ever have anticipated such a humiliation? But Litvinov still held his peace, turned away, and pulled his cap over his eyes. The train started at last. ‘Well, say something at parting at least, you stonyhearted man!’ shouted Bambaev, ‘this is really too much!’ ‘Rotten milksop!’ yelled Bindasov. The carriages were moving more and more rapidly, and he could vent his abuse with impunity. ‘Niggardly stick-in-the-mud.’ Whether Bindasov invented this last appellation on the spot, or whether it had come to him second-hand, it apparently gave great satisfaction to two of the noble young fellows studying natural science, who happened to be standing by, for only a few days later it appeared in the Russian periodical sheet, published at that time at Heidelberg under the title: _A tout venant je crache!_[2] or, ‘We don’t care a hang for anybody!’ Footnote 2: A historical fact. But Litvinov repeated again, ‘Smoke, smoke, smoke! Here,’ he thought, ‘in Heidelberg now are over a hundred Russian students; they’re all studying chemistry, physics, physiology--they won’t even hear of anything else ... but in five or six years’ time there won’t be fifteen at the lectures by the same celebrated professors; the wind will change, the smoke will be blowing ... in another quarter ... smoke ... smoke...!’[3] Footnote 3: Litvinov’s presentiments came true. In 1866 there were in Heidelberg thirteen Russian students entered for the summer, and twelve for the winter session. [Illustration: _Heidelberg._]