Both Varvara and Grushina thought the church ceremonies amusing. They giggled continuously. The words about a woman cleaving to her husband evoked special merriment. Routilov also giggled. He considered it his duty always and everywhere to amuse the ladies. Volodin conducted himself sedately, and crossed himself, preserving an expression of profundity on his face. The church ceremonies did not suggest to his mind anything but that they were an established custom which ought to be fulfilled, and that the fulfilment of all ceremonies leads one to a certain inner convenience: he went to church on Sundays, and he prayed, and was absolved, he had sinned and repented and again he was absolved. Now this is excellent and convenient--all the more convenient because once outside the church he did not have to think about churchly matters, but was guided entirely by quite different and worldly rules. The ceremony was barely over and they had not yet had time to leave the church when suddenly a drunken crowd tumbled noisily into the church. It was Mourin and his friends. Mourin, dusty and tousled, as usual, embraced Peredonov and shouted: "You can't hide it from us, old boy! We're such fast friends that you can't part us by pouring cold water on us. And yet you hid it from us, you tricky fellow!" Exclamations came from all sides: "Villain, you didn't invite us!" "But we're here all the same!" "Yes, we found it out without you!" The new-comers embraced and congratulated Peredonov. Mourin said: "We missed the way because we stopped for a drink, or else we'd have conferred the pleasure of our company on you earlier." Peredonov looked at them gloomily and did not reply to their congratulations. Malevolence and fear tormented him. "They're always tracking me everywhere," he thought dejectedly. "You might have crossed your foreheads," he said angrily. "Or possibly you were thinking evil against me." The visitors crossed themselves, laughed and joked. The young officials especially distinguished themselves. The deacon reproached them. Among the visitors was a young men with red moustaches whom Peredonov did not even know. He resembled a cat to an extraordinary degree. Wasn't it their cat turned into human shape? It was not for nothing that this young man kept snarling--he had not forgotten his cattish habits. "Who told you?" asked Varvara angrily of the new guests. "A nice young woman told us," replied Mourin. "But we have forgotten who it was." Grushina turned around and winked at them. The new guests smiled back but did not give her away. Mourin said: "As you like, Ardalyon Borisitch, but we're coming with you and you must give us champagne. Don't be a skinflint. You can't pour cold water on such friends as we are, and yet you've tried to get married on the quiet." When the Peredonovs returned from the wedding the sun had gone down, but the sky was all fiery and golden. But this did not please Peredonov. He growled: