"R-romuald, Syria's holy hermit, come, let me kiss you!" he roared in a way that echoed through the whole house. "How long do you intend to sit brooding here? Come, let us go. There's wine and play and jolly fellows down there. Come!" Viätkin gave Romashov a sounding kiss and rubbed his face with his wet moustache. "Well, well, that will do, Pavel Pavlich. Is that the way to go on?" Romashov tried to defend himself against Viätkin's repeated caresses, but in vain. "Hold out your hand, my friend. Osadchi is kicking up a row down there, so there's not a pane of glass unbroken. Romashevich, I love you. Come here and let me give you a real Russian kiss, right on the mouth--do you hear?" Viätkin with his swollen face, glassy eyes, and stinking breath was unspeakably forbidding to Romashov, but, as usual, the latter could not ward off such caresses, to which he now responded by a sickly and submissive smile. "Wait and you shall hear why I came," shrieked Viätkin, hiccupping and stumbling about the room. "Something important, you may well believe. Bobetinski was cleaned out by me to his last copeck. Then he wanted, of course, to give an IOU. 'Much obliged, dear boy, but that cock won't fight. But perhaps you have something left to pledge.' Then he drew out his revolver--here it is, by the way." Viätkin drew from his breeches pocket, which followed, turned inside out, a choice little, well-constructed revolver protected by a chamois-leather case. "As you see, dear boy, the Mervin type. 'Well,' I said to him, 'how much will you venture on that--twenty--ten--fifteen?' And can you imagine such a curmudgeon? The first time only a rouble, on the 'colour,' of course. But all the same--hey, presto! slap-bang! After five raisings the revolver was mine and the cartridges too. And now you shall have it, Romashevich, as a keepsake of our old friendship. Some day you will always think of me thus: 'Viätkin was always a brave and generous officer.' But what are you doing? Are you writing verses?" "Well, well, what have you brought this for, Pavel Pavlich? Put it away." "All right. Perhaps you think it's no good? I could kill an elephant with it. Will experiment with it at once. Where's that slave of yours? He shall get us a target on the spot. Wait a second. Hainán!--slave!--squire-at-arms!--hi!" Viätkin rolled out of the door and then into Hainán's closet, where for several minutes he was heard kicking up a row. Suddenly he returned in triumph with Pushkin's bust under his arm. "Well I never, Pavel Pavlich! Don't make a fool of yourself. Let that alone." But there was not sufficient force in Romashov's objections, and Viätkin went on as he pleased. "Rubbish! You chatter like a starling. Now we'll put this on the _tabouret_. Stand up, you ass. I'll teach you, by Jove!"