Grushina said with a forced laugh: "Pavel Ivanitch is drunk, but still knows the difference between bread and cake." As if she had bought the caviare for him! And under the pretext of serving the ladies she took the best dishes away from him. But Volodin was not disconcerted and was glad to take what was left: he had managed to eat a good deal of the best things and it was all the same to him now. Peredonov looked at the munchers and it seemed to him that everyone was laughing at him. Why? For what reason? He ate piggishly and greedily everything that came to his hand. After supper they sat down to play cards again. But Peredonov soon got tired of it. He threw down the cards and said: "To the devil with you! I have no luck. I'm tired! Varvara, let's go home." And the other guests got up at the same time. Volodin saw in the hall that Peredonov had a new stick. He smiled and turned the stick over in front of him, asking: "Ardasha, why are these fingers bent into a little roll? What does it mean?" Peredonov angrily took the stick from him and put the handle with a Koukish[4] carved out of black wood on it to Volodin's nose and said: "A fig with butter for you!" Volodin looked offended. "Allow me to say, Ardalyon Borisitch," he said, "that I eat bread with butter, but that I do not want to eat a fig with butter." Peredonov, without listening to him, was solicitously wrapping up his neck in a scarf and buttoning up his overcoat. Routilov said with a laugh: "Why are you wrapping yourself up, Ardalyon Borisitch? It's quite warm." "Health before everything," replied Peredonov. It was quiet in the street--the street was stretched out in the darkness as if asleep and snored gently. It was dark, melancholy and damp. Heavy clouds moved across the sky. Peredonov growled: "They've let loose the darkness. Why?" He was not afraid now--he was walking with Varvara and not alone. Soon a small, rapid, continuous rain began to fall. Everything was still. And only the rain babbled something obtrusively and quickly, sobbing out incoherent, melancholy phrases. Peredonov felt in nature the reflection of his own dejection, his own dread before the mask of her hostility to him--he had no conception of that inner life in all nature which is inaccessible to external decrees, the life which alone creates the true, deep and unfailing relations between man and nature, because all nature seemed to him permeated with petty human feelings. Blinded by the illusions of personality and distinct existence he could not understand elemental Dionysian exultations rejoicing and clamouring in nature. He was blind and pitiful, like so many of us. [1] "Roubaska" generally means "shirt," but also is used to express the "back" of a card. Hence Routilov's pun. [2] Diminutive of "dourak"--fool. A Russian card game. [3] See note above. Search for The tendency to speak ... [4] See note above. Search for Koukish, a clenched fist ... CHAPTER XXIII