And when he took the cigarette he noticed with pleasure that Liuba had put her chemise straight, and the hope that everything might yet go smoothly rose again. He was a poor smoker; he did not inhale, and womanlike held the cigarette between two straight fingers. »You don't even know how to smoke!« the girl exclaimed angrily, and roughly tried to snatch the cigarette from him. »Throw it away!« »Now, there you are,--angry with me again!« »Yes, I am!« »But why, Liuba? Just think! For two nights I haven't had any sleep, running about the town from pillar to post. And now, you're going to give me up and they'll have me in jail! That's a fine finish, isn't it? But, Liuba, I'll never give in alive....« He stopped short. »Will you shoot?« »Yes, I shall shoot.« The music had ceased for a time, but the wild drunken man was still halloing although apparently someone, as a joke or in earnest, had a hand on his mouth, the sounds coming through the compressed fingers even more desperately and savagely. The room reeked no longer with cheap fragrant soap, but with a thick, moist and repulsive odour; on one wall, uncovered, there hung messily and flat some petticoats and blouses. It was all so repugnant, so strange, to think that this also was life,--that people were living such a life day in, day out,--that he felt dazed and shrugged his shoulders and again looked round slowly. »What a place this is!« he said, bemused and resting his eyes on Liuba. »What of it?« she asked curtly. He looked at her as she stood there, and suddenly understood that she was to be pitied; and as soon as he had grasped this he did pity her--ardently. »You are poor, Liuba?« »Well?« »Give me your hand.« And, as though to assert in some way his relation to the girl as a human being, he took her hand and respectfully raised it to his lips. »You mean that ... for me?« »Yes, Liuba, for you.« Then quite quietly, as though thanking him, she said: »Off you go! Get out of here, you block-head!« He did not understand at once. »What?« »Off with you. Get out of here! Get out!« Silently, with a steady step, she crossed the room, picked up the white collar in the corner, and threw it to him with an expression of disgust, as though it had been the dirtiest, filthiest rag. And he, likewise silent, but with an expression of high resolve, without sparing even one glance at the girl, began quietly and slowly buttoning on the collar; but all in a moment, with a savage whine, Liuba struck him on his shaven cheek, with all her strength. The collar fell on the floor; he was shaken from his balance, but steadied himself. Pale, almost blue, but still silent, with the same look of lofty composure and proud incomprehension, he faced her with a stolid, unswerving stare. She was drawing rapid breaths, and staring at him in terror. »Well?« she gasped. He looked at her, still silent.