"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 gla.s.ses 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 gla.s.s of wine.

"Well," muttered Velchaninoff, "but that's nothing but dregs!"

"No, there's just a couple of gla.s.ses left-it's quite clear. Now then, clink gla.s.ses and drink. There, I'll take your gla.s.s and you take mine."

They touched gla.s.ses 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!"

"Don't shout so-don't shout! Why make such a noise?" cried Pavel Pavlovitch. "I'm not making a fool of you! Do you know what you are to me now?" and he suddenly seized Velchaninoff's hand, and kissed it before Velchaninoff could recollect himself.

"There, that's what you are to me _now_; and now I'll go to the devil."

"Wait a bit-stop!" cried Velchaninoff, recollecting himself; "there's something I wished to say to you."

Pavel Pavlovitch turned back from the door.

"You see," began Velchaninoff, blushing and keeping his eye well away from the other, "you ought to go with me to the Pogoryeltseffs to-morrow-just to thank them, you know, and make their acquaintance."

"Of course, of course; quite so!" said Pavel Pavlovitch readily, and making a gesture of the hand to imply that he knew his duty, and there was no need to remind him of it.

"Besides Liza expects you anxiously-I promised her."

"Liza?" Pavel Pavlovitch turned quickly once more upon him. "Liza? Do you know, sir, what this Liza has been to me-has been and is?" he cried pa.s.sionately and almost beside himself; "but-no!-afterwards-that shall be afterwards! Meanwhile it's not enough for me, Alexey Ivanovitch, that we have drunk together; there's another satisfaction I must have, sir!" He placed his hat on a chair, and, panting with excitement, gazed at his companion with much the same expression as before.

"Kiss me, Alexey Ivanovitch!"

"Are you drunk?" cried the other, drawing back.

"Yes, I am-but kiss me all the same, Alexey Ivanovitch-oh, do! I kissed your hand just now, you know."

Alexey Ivanovitch was silent for a few moments, as though stunned by the blow of a cudgel. Then he quickly bent down to Pavel Pavlovitch (who was about the height of his shoulder), and kissed his lips, from which proceeded a disagreeably powerful odour of wine. He performed the action as though not quite certain of what he was doing.

"Well! _now, now!_" cried Pavel Pavlovitch, with drunken enthusiasm, and with his eyes flashing fiercely; "_now_-look here-I'll tell you what! I thought at that time: 'Surely not _he_, too! If _this_ man,' I thought, 'if _this_ man is guilty too-then whom am I ever to trust again!' "

Pavel Pavlovitch suddenly burst into tears.

"So now you must understand _how_ dear a friend you are to me henceforth."

With these words he took his hat and rushed out of the room.

Velchaninoff stood for several minutes in one spot, just as he had done after Pavel Pavlovitch's first visit.

"It's merely a drunken sally-nothing more!" he muttered. "Absolutely nothing further!" he repeated, when he was undressed and settled down in his bed.

CHAPTER VIII.

Next morning, while waiting for Pavel Pavlovitch, who had promised to be in good time in order to drive down to the Pogoryeltseffs with him, Velchaninoff walked up and down the room, sipped his coffee, and every other minute reflected upon one and the same idea; namely, that he felt like a man who had awaked from sleep with the deep impression of having received a box on the ear the last thing at night.

"Hm!" he thought, anxiously, "he understands the state of the case only too well; he'll take it out of me by means of Liza!" The dear image of the poor little girl danced before his eyes. His heart beat quicker when he reflected that to-day-in a couple of hours-he would see _his own_ Liza once more. "Yes-there's no question about it," he said to himself; "my whole end and aim in life is _there_ now! What do I care about all these 'memories' and boxes on the ear; and what have I lived for up to now?-for sorrow and discomfort-that's all! but _now_, now-it's all different!"

But in spite of his ecstatic feelings he grew more and more thoughtful.

"He is worrying me for Liza, that's plain; and he bullies Liza-he is going to take it out of me that way-for _all_! Hm! at all events I cannot possibly allow such sallies as his of last night," and Velchaninoff blushed hotly "and here's half-past eleven and he hasn't come yet." He waited long-till half-past twelve, and his anguish of impatience grew more and more keen. Pavel Pavlovitch did not appear. At length the idea began to take shape that Pavel Pavlovitch naturally would not come again for the sole purpose of another scene like that of last night. The thought filled Velchaninoff with despair. "The brute knows I am depending upon him-and what on earth am I to do now about Liza? How can I make my appearance without him?"

At last he could bear it no longer and set off to the Pokrofsky at one o'clock to look for Pavel Pavlovitch.

At the lodging, Velchaninoff was informed that Pavel Pavlovitch had not been at home all night, and had only called in at nine o'clock, stayed a quarter of an hour, and had gone out again.

Velchaninoff stood at the door listening to the servants' report, mechanically tried the handle, recollected himself, and asked to see Maria Sisevna.

The latter obeyed his summons at once.

She was a kind-hearted old creature, of generous feelings, as Velchaninoff described her afterwards to Claudia Petrovna. Having first enquired as to his journey yesterday with Liza, Maria launched into anecdotes of Pavel Pavlovitch. She declared that she would long ago have turned her lodger out neck and crop, but for the child. Pavel Pavlovitch had been turned out of the hotel for generally disreputable behaviour. "Oh, he does dreadful things!" she continued. "Fancy his telling the poor child, in anger, that she wasn't his daughter, but--"

"Oh no, no! impossible!" cried Velchaninoff in alarm.

"I heard it myself! She's only a small child, of course, but that sort of thing doesn't do before an intelligent child like her! She cried dreadfully-she was quite upset. We had a catastrophe in the house a short while since. Some commissionnaire or somebody took a room in the evening, and hung himself before morning. He had bolted with money, they say. Well, crowds of people came in to stare at him. Pavel Pavlovitch wasn't at home, but the child had escaped and was wandering about; and she must needs go with the rest to see the sight. I saw her looking at the suicide with an extraordinary expression, and carried her off at once, of course; and fancy, I hardly managed to get home with her-trembling all over she was-when off she goes in a dead faint, and it was all I could do to bring her round at all. I don't know whether she's epileptic or what-and ever since that she has been ill. When her father heard, he came and pinched her all over-he doesn't beat her; he always pinches her like that,-then he went out and got drunk somewhere, and came back and frightened her. 'I'm going to hang myself too,' he says, 'because of you. I shall hang myself on that blind string there,' he says, and he makes a loop in the string before her very eyes. The poor little thing went quite out of her mind with terror, and cried and clasped him round with her little arms. 'I'll be good-I'll be good!' she shrieks. It was a pitiful sight-it was, indeed!"

Velchaninoff, though prepared for strange revelations concerning Pavel Pavlovitch and his ways, was quite dumbfounded by these tales; he could scarcely believe his ears.

Maria Sisevna told him many more such little anecdotes. Among others, there was one occasion, when, if she (Maria) had not been by, Liza would have thrown herself out of the window.