The waiter brought some glasses of beer. ‘_Baierisch-Bier?_’ inquired the general with whiskers, assuming a bass voice, and affecting astonishment--‘_Guten Morgen._’ ‘Well? Is Count Pavel still there?’ one young general inquired coldly and listlessly of another. ‘Yes,’ replied the other equally coldly, ‘_Mais c’est provisoire_. _Serge_, they say, will be put in his place.’ ‘Aha!’ filtered the first through his teeth. ‘Ah, yes,’ filtered the second. ‘I can’t understand,’ began the general who had hummed the song, ‘I can’t understand what induced Paul to defend himself--to bring forward all sorts of reasons. Certainly, he crushed the merchant pretty well, _il lui a fait rendre gorge_ ... well, and what of it? He may have had his own motives.’ ‘He was afraid ... of being shown up in the newspapers,’ muttered some one. The irritable general grew hot. ‘Well, it is too much! Newspapers! Shown up! If it depended on me, I would not let anything be printed in those papers but the taxes on meat or bread, and announcements of sales of boots or furs.’ ‘And gentlemen’s properties up for auction,’ put in Ratmirov. ‘Possibly under present circumstances.... What a conversation, though, in Baden _au Vieux-Château_.’ ‘_Mais pas du tout! pas du tout!_’ replied the lady in the yellow hat, ‘_j’adore les questions politiques_.’ ‘_Madame a raison_,’ interposed another general with an exceedingly pleasant and girlish-looking face. ‘Why should we avoid those questions ... even in Baden?’ As he said these words he looked urbanely at Litvinov and smiled condescendingly. ‘A man of honour ought never under any circumstances to disown his convictions. Don’t you think so?’ ‘Of course,’ rejoined the irritable general, darting a look at Litvinov, and as it were indirectly attacking him, ‘but I don’t see the necessity....’ ‘No, no,’ the condescending general interposed with the same mildness, ‘your friend, Valerian Vladimirovitch, just referred to the sale of gentlemen’s estates. Well? Is not that a fact?’ ‘But it’s impossible to sell them nowadays; nobody wants them!’ cried the irritable general. ‘Perhaps ... perhaps. For that very reason we ought to proclaim that fact ... that sad fact at every step. We are ruined ... very good; we are beggared ... there’s no disputing about that; but we, the great owners, we still represent a principle ... _un principe_. To preserve that principle is our duty. _Pardon, madame_, I think you dropped your handkerchief. When some, so to say, darkness has come over even the highest minds, we ought submissively to point out (the general held out his finger) with the finger of a citizen the abyss to which everything is tending. We ought to warn, we ought to say with respectful firmness, ‘turn back, turn back.... That is what we ought to say.’ ‘There’s no turning back altogether, though,’ observed Ratmirov moodily. The condescending general only grinned.