Kirik laughed loudly. The company fell into two groups, one listening to the tale of the boy who was shot, the other to the drawling remarks of Travkin on the man who had carried out twenty-three robberies. Ilya looked at his hostess, and felt a little flame begin to flicker within him--it illuminated nothing but caused a persistent burning at his heart. From the moment he realised that the Avtonomovs were anxious lest he should commit some solecism before their guests, his thoughts became clearer as though he had found a clue to their course. Tatiana Vlassyevna was busy in the next room at a table covered with bottles. Her bright red silk blouse flamed against the white walls; in her tightly-laced corset she flitted about like a butterfly, all the pride of the skilful housewife shining in her face. Twice Ilya saw her beckon him to her with quick, hardly noticeable gestures, but he did not go and felt glad to think that his refusal would disturb her. "Why, brother, you're sitting there like an owl!" said Kirik, suddenly. "Say something--don't be afraid--these are educated people who won't be offended with you!" "There was a girl being tried," Ilya began loudly all at once, "a girl I know, she is a prostitute, but she's a good girl for all that." Again he attracted the attention of the company, and all eyes were once more fixed on him. Felizata Yegarovna showed her big teeth in a broad, mocking smile; the telegraph official twisted his moustache, covering his mouth with his hand; almost all tried hard to seem serious and attentive. Tatiana suddenly dropped a handful of knives and forks, and the clash rang in Ilya's heart like loud martial music. He looked quietly round the company with widely opened eyes and went on: "Why do you smile? There are good girls among----" "Quite possible," Kirik interrupted, "but you needn't be quite so frank about it." "These are cultivated people," said Ilya, "if I say anything that is unusual, they won't be offended." A whole sheaf of bright sparks shot up suddenly in his breast; a sneering smile appeared on his face, and he felt almost choked with the flood of words that poured from his brain. "This girl had stolen some money from a merchant." "Better and better," cried Kirik, and shook his head with a comical grimace. "You can readily imagine under what circumstances she stole it, but perhaps she did not steal it, perhaps he gave it to her." "Tanitshka!" cried Kirik, "come here a minute! Ilya's telling such anecdotes." But Tatiana was already close to Ilya, and said with a forced smile and a shrug of her shoulders: "What's the fuss about? It's a very ordinary story; you, Kirik, know hundreds of cases like that, there are no young girls here. But let us leave that till later, shan't we?--and now we'll have something to eat." "Yes, of course," cried Kirik, "I'm ready, he! he! Clever conversation is all very well, but----" "Anyhow, it gives an appetite," said Travkin, and stroked his throat.