“And do you need a lot of money?” “Yes, a lot. I … how can I tell you? I propose … getting married.” Polozov set the glass he had been lifting to his lips on the table. “Getting married!” he articulated in a voice thick with astonishment, and he folded his podgy hands on his stomach. “So suddenly?” “Yes … soon.” “Your intended is in Russia, of course?” “No, not in Russia.” “Where then?” “Here in Frankfort.” “And who is she?” “A German; that is, no—an Italian. A resident here.” “With a fortune?” “No, without a fortune.” “Then I suppose your love is very ardent?” “How absurd you are! Yes, very ardent.” “And it’s for that you must have money?” “Well, yes … yes, yes.” Polozov gulped down his wine, rinsed his mouth, and washed his hands, carefully wiped them on the napkin, took out and lighted a cigar. Sanin watched him in silence. “There’s one means,” Polozov grunted at last, throwing his head back, and blowing out the smoke in a thin ring. “Go to my wife. If she likes, she can take all the bother off your hands.” “But how can I see your wife? You say you are starting the day after to-morrow?” Polozov closed his eyes. “I’ll tell you what,” he said at last, rolling the cigar in his lips, and sighing. “Go home, get ready as quick as you can, and come here. At one o’clock I am going, there’s plenty of room in my carriage. I’ll take you with me. That’s the best plan. And now I’m going to have a nap. I must always have a nap, brother, after a meal. Nature demands it, and I won’t go against it. And don’t you disturb me.” Sanin thought and thought, and suddenly raised his head; he had made up his mind. “Very well, agreed, and thank you. At half-past twelve I’ll be here, and we’ll go together to Wiesbaden. I hope your wife won’t be angry….” But Polozov was already snoring. He muttered, “Don’t disturb me!” gave a kick, and fell asleep, like a baby. Sanin once more scanned his clumsy figure, his head, his neck, his upturned chin, round as an apple, and going out of the hotel, set off with rapid strides to the Rosellis’ shop. He had to let Gemma know. XXXII He found her in the shop with her mother. Frau Lenore was stooping down, measuring with a big folding foot-rule the space between the windows. On seeing Sanin, she stood up, and greeted him cheerfully, though with a shade of embarrassment. “What you said yesterday,” she began, “has set my head in a whirl with ideas as to how we could improve our shop. Here, I fancy we might put a couple of cupboards with shelves of looking-glass. You know, that’s the fashion nowadays. And then …”