“Wherefore this sudden pride, sir?” Velchaninoff suddenly burst into a fit of nervous, irritable laughter. “Why, deuce take it all!” he cried, “you are quite a different type to what I believed. I thought you were nothing but a ‘permanent husband,’ but I find you are a sort of bird of prey.” “What! ‘permanent husband?’ What is a ‘permanent husband?’ ” asked Pavel Pavlovitch, pricking up his ears. “Oh—just one type of husbands—that’s all, it’s too long to explain. Come, you’d better get out now; it’s quite time you went. I’m sick of you!” “And bird of prey, sir; what did that mean?” “I said you were a bird of prey for a joke.” “Yes; but—bird of prey—tell me what you mean, Alexey Ivanovitch, for goodness sake!” “Come, come, that’s quite enough!” shouted Velchaninoff, suddenly flaring up and speaking at the top of his voice. “It’s time you went; get out of this, will you?” “No, sir, it’s _not_ enough!” cried Pavel Pavlovitch, jumping up, too. “Even if you _are_ sick of me, sir, it’s not enough; for you must first drink and clink glasses with me. I won’t go before you do! No, no; oh dear no! drink first; it’s _not_ enough yet.” “Pavel Pavlovitch, will you go to the devil or will you not?” “With pleasure, sir. I’ll go to the devil with pleasure; but first we must drink. You say you don’t wish to drink _with me_; but _I wish you_ to drink with me—actually _with me_.” Pavel Pavlovitch was grimacing and giggling no longer. He seemed to be suddenly transfigured again, and was as different from the Pavel Pavlovitch of but a few moments since as he could possibly be, both in appearance and in the tone of his voice; so much so that Velchaninoff was absolutely confounded. “Come, Alexey Ivanovitch, let’s drink!—don’t refuse me!” continued Pavel Pavlovitch, seizing the other tightly by the hand and gazing into his face with an extraordinary expression. It was clear there was more in this matter than the mere question of drinking a glass of wine. “Well,” muttered Velchaninoff, “but that’s nothing but dregs!” “No, there’s just a couple of glasses left—it’s quite clear. Now then, clink glasses and drink. There, I’ll take your glass and you take mine.” They touched glasses and drank. “Oh, Alexey Ivanovitch! now that we’ve drunk together—oh!” Pavel Pavlovitch suddenly raised his hand to his forehead and sat still for a few moments. Velchaninoff trembled with excitement. He thought Pavel Pavlovitch was about to disclose _all_; but Pavel Pavlovitch said nothing whatever. He only looked at him, and quietly smiled his detestable cunning smile in the other’s face. “What do you want with me, you drunken wretch?” cried Velchaninoff, furious, and stamping his foot upon the floor; “you are making a fool of me!”