The orderly, who had just returned with the honey and spice-cakes, was called in. He looked askance (whether with envy or with contempt) at the gentlemen, who in his opinion were on the spree; and carefully and conscientiously handed over to them a piece of honeycomb and the cakes wrapped up in a piece of greyish paper, and began explaining circumstantially all about the price and the change, but Belétski sent him away. Having mixed honey with wine in the glasses, and having lavishly scattered the three pounds of spice-cakes on the table, Belétski dragged the girls from their corners by force, made them sit down at the table, and began distributing the cakes among them. Olénin involuntarily noticed how Maryánka’s sunburnt but small hand closed on two round peppermint nuts and one brown one, and that she did not know what to do with them. The conversation was halting and constrained, in spite of Ústenka’s and Belétski’s free and easy manner and their wish to enliven the company. Olénin faltered, and tried to think of something to say, feeling that he was exciting curiosity and perhaps provoking ridicule and infecting the others with his shyness. He blushed, and it seemed to him that Maryánka in particular was feeling uncomfortable. “Most likely they are expecting us to give them some money,” thought he. “How are we to do it? And how can we manage quickest to give it and get away?” Chapter XXV “How is it you don’t know your own lodger?” said Belétski, addressing Maryánka. “How is one to know him if he never comes to see us?” answered Maryánka, with a look at Olénin. Olénin felt frightened, he did not know of what. He flushed and, hardly knowing what he was saying, remarked: “I’m afraid of your mother. She gave me such a scolding the first time I went in.” Maryánka burst out laughing. “And so you were frightened?” she said, and glanced at him and turned away.