“I’ll take my comrade right away, and then home.” “As you know best! ... God bless you, dearie!” “Forgive me! ... Forgive me! ...” once more repeated Kolya, stretching out his hands to her. “I’ve already told you, my splendid boy...And you forgive me too...For we won’t see each other anymore!” And she, having closed the door, was left alone. In the corridor Gladishev hesitated, because he did not know how to find the room to which Petrov had retired with Tamara. But the housekeeper Zociya helped him, running past him very quickly, and with a very anxious, alarmed air. “Oh, I haven’t time to bother with you now!” she snarled back at Gladishev’s question. “Third door to the left.” Kolya walked up to the door indicated and knocked. Some sort of bustle and whispering sounded in the room. He knocked once more. “Kerkovius, open! This is me—Soliterov.” Among the cadets, setting out on expeditions of this sort, it was always agreed upon to call each other by fictitious names. It was not so much a conspiracy or a shift against the vigilance of those in authority, or fear of compromising one’s self before a chance acquaintance of the family, but rather a play, of its own kind, at mysteriousness and disguise—a play tracing its beginning from those times when the young people were borne away by Gustave Aimard, Mayne Reid, and the detective Lecocq. “You can’t come in!” the voice of Tamara came from behind the door. “You can’t come in. We are busy.” But the bass voice of Petrov immediately cut her short: “Nonsense! She’s lying. Come in. It’s all right.” Kolya opened the door. Petrov was sitting on a chair dressed, but all red, morose, with lips pouting like a child’s, with downcast eyes. “Well, what a friend you’ve brought—I must say!” Tamara began speaking sneeringly and wrathfully. “I thought he was a man in earnest, but this is only some sort of a little girl! He’s sorry to lose his innocence, if you please. What a treasure you’ve found, to be sure! But take back, take back your two roubles!” she suddenly began yelling at Petrov and tossed two coins on the table. “You’ll give them away to some poor chambermaid or other! Or else save them for gloves for yourself, you marmot!” “But what are you cursing for?” grumbled Petrov, without raising his eyes. “I’m not cursing you, am I? Then why do you curse first? I have a full right to act as I want to. But I have passed some time with you, and so take them. But to be forced, I don’t want to. And on your part, Gladishev—that is, Soliterov—this isn’t at all nice. I thought she was a nice girl, but she’s trying to kiss all the time, and does God knows what...” Tamara, despite her wrath, burst into laughter. “Oh, you little stupid, little stupid! Well, don’t be angry—I’ll take your money. Only watch: this very evening you’ll be sorry, you’ll be crying. Well, don’t be angry, don’t be angry, angel, let’s make up. Put your hand out to me, as I’m doing to you.”