And among all the uproar and the smoke, Gubaryov walked indefatigably up and down as before, swaying from side to side and twitching at his beard; now listening, turning an ear to some controversy, now putting in a word of his own; and every one was forced to feel that he, Gubaryov, was the source of it all, that he was the master here, and the most eminent personality.... Litvinov, towards ten o’clock, began to have a terrible headache, and, taking advantage of a louder outburst of general excitement, went off quietly unobserved. Madame Suhantchikov had recollected a fresh act of injustice of Prince Barnaulov; he had all but given orders to have some one’s ears bitten off. The fresh night air enfolded Litvinov’s flushed face caressingly, the fragrant breeze breathed on his parched lips. ‘What is it,’ he thought as he went along the dark avenue, ‘that I have been present at? Why were they met together? What were they shouting, scolding, and making such a pother about? What was it all for?’ Litvinov shrugged his shoulders, and turning into Weber’s, he picked up a newspaper and asked for an ice. The newspaper was taken up with a discussion on the Roman question, and the ice turned out to be very nasty. He was already preparing to go home, when suddenly an unknown person in a wide-brimmed hat drew near, and saying in Russian: ‘I hope I am not in your way?’ sat down at his table. Only then, after a closer glance at the stranger, Litvinov recognised him as the broad-shouldered gentleman hidden away in a corner at Gubaryov’s, who had stared at him with such attention when the conversation had turned on political views. During the whole evening this gentleman had not once opened his mouth, and now, sitting down near Litvinov, and taking off his hat, he looked at him with an expression of friendliness and some embarrassment. V ‘Mr. Gubaryov, at whose rooms I had the pleasure of meeting you to-day,’ he began, ‘did not introduce me to you; so that, with your leave, I will now introduce myself--Potugin, retired councillor. I was in the department of finances in St. Petersburg. I hope you do not think it strange.... I am not in the habit as a rule of making friends so abruptly ... but with you....’ Potugin grew rather mixed, and he asked the waiter to bring him a little glass of kirsch-wasser. ‘To give me courage,’ he added with a smile. Litvinov looked with redoubled interest at the last of all the new persons with whom it had been his lot to be brought into contact that day. His thought was at once, ‘He is not the same as those.’