"Well, if I mustn't, then I mustn't." But two other men who had followed his example and were dancing the "squat" dance refused to obey the order. "What right have you to stop us? Haven't we paid our half-rouble?" they exclaimed and were escorted out. Volodin went with them to the door, cutting capers, smiling and dancing. The Routilov girls made haste to find Peredonov to make a fool of him. He sat alone at the window and looked at the crowd with wandering eyes. All people and objects seemed to him senseless, inharmonious, and equally hostile. Liudmilla, in her gipsy dress, went up to him and said in a guttural voice: "Shall I tell your fortune, pretty gentleman?" "Go to the devil!" shouted Peredonov. The gipsy's sudden appearance frightened him. "Give me your hand, dear gentleman, pretty gentleman. I can see from your face that you'll be rich. You'll be an important official," Liudmilla importuned him, and took his hand. "Well, see that you give me a good fortune," growled Peredonov. "My sweet gentleman," began the gipsy, "you have many enemies, they'll inform against you, you will weep, you will die under a fence." "Carrion!" shouted Peredonov, and snatched his hand away. Liudmilla quickly disappeared in the crowd. Then Valeria took her place. She sat down beside Peredonov and whispered to him very tenderly: "I am a lovely Spanish maid, And I love such men as you, But that your wife's a wretched jade, Handsome gentleman, is true." "It's a lie, you fool," growled Peredonov. Valeria went on: "Hotter than day, sweeter than night, Is my keen Seville kiss; Spit in her dull eyes, my light, And see that you don't miss. Varvara is your wife, You are handsome, Ardalyon; She's a plague upon your life, You're as wise as Solomon." "That's true enough," said Peredonov, "but how can I spit in her eyes? She'll complain to the Princess and I shan't get the place." "And why do you want the place? You're good enough without the place," said Valeria. "Yes, but how can I live if I don't get it?" said Peredonov dejectedly. * * * * * Darya stuck into Volodin's hand a letter with a red seal on it. Volodin unsealed the letter, bleating happily, read it and lapsed into thought--he looked proud and a little flurried. It was written briefly and clearly: "Come, my darling, and meet me to-morrow night at eleven o'clock at the Soldiers' Baths. Your unknown J." Volodin believed in the letter, but the question was--was it worth going? And who was this "J"? Was it some sort of Jenny? Or was it the surname which began with "J"? Volodin showed the letter to Routilov. "Go, of course go," Routilov urged him, "and see what happens. Perhaps it's some rich catch, who's fallen in love with you and the parents are against it, so she's taken this way of speaking to you."