"Yes, I am in a hurry, and I am ill besides." He felt as though he would give anything to get rid of the man; the feeling of readiness to develop new and better relations with him had vanished in a moment.

"I should so much like--"

Pavel Pavlovitch did not finish his sentence; Velchaninoff kept silence and waited.

"In that case, perhaps another time-if we should happen to meet."

"Yes, yes, another time," said Velchaninoff quickly, continuing to move along, and never looking at his companion.

Nothing was said for another minute or two. Pavel Pavlovitch continued to trot alongside.

"In that case, _au revoir_," he blurted, at last. "_Au revoir!_ I hope--"

Velchaninoff did not think it necessary to hear him complete his sentence; he left Pavel, and returned home much agitated. The meeting with "that fellow" had been too much for his present state of mind. As he lay down upon his bed the thought came over him once more: "Why was that fellow there, close to the cemetery?" He determined to go down to the Pogoryeltseffs' next morning; not that he felt inclined to go-any sympathy was intolerably painful to him,-but they had been so kind and so anxious about him, that he must really make up his mind to go. But next day, while finishing his breakfast, he felt terribly disinclined for the visit; he felt, as it were, shy of meeting them for the first time after his grief.

"Shall I go or not?" he was saying to himself, as he sat at his table.

When suddenly, to his extreme amazement, in walked Pavel Pavlovitch.

In spite of yesterday's _rencontre_, Velchaninoff could not have believed that this man would ever enter his rooms again; and when he now saw him appear, he gazed at him in such absolute astonishment, that he simply did not know what to say. But Pavel Pavlovitch took the management of the matter into his own hands; he said "good morning," and sat down in the very same chair which he had occupied on his last visit, three weeks since.

This circ.u.mstance reminded Velchaninoff too painfully of that visit, and he glared at his visitor with disgust and some agitation.

"You are surprised, I see!" said Pavel Pavlovitch, reading the other's expression.

He seemed to be both freer, more at his ease, and yet more timid than yesterday. His outward appearance was very curious to behold; for Pavel Pavlovitch was not only _neatly_ dressed, he was "got up" in the pink of fashion. He had on a neat summer overcoat, with a pair of light trousers and a white waistcoat; his gloves, his gold eye-gla.s.ses (quite a new acquisition), and his linen were quite above all criticism; he wafted an odour of sweet scent when he moved. He looked funny, but his appearance awakened strange thoughts besides.

"Of course I have surprised you, Alexey Ivanovitch," he said, twisting himself about; "I see it. But in my opinion there should be a something exalted, something higher-untouched and unattainable by petty discords, or the ordinary conditions of life, between man and man. Don't you agree with me, sir?"

"Pavel Pavlovitch, say what you have to say as quickly as you can, and without further ceremony," said Velchaninoff, frowning angrily.

"In a couple of words, sir," said Pavel, hurriedly, "I am going to be married, and I am now off to see my bride-at once. She lives in the country; and what I desire is, the profound honour of introducing _you_ to the family, sir; in fact, I have come here to pet.i.tion you, sir" (Pavel Pavlovitch bent his head deferentially)-"to beg you to go down with me."

"Go down with you? Where to?" cried the other, his eyes starting out of his head.

"To their house in the country, sir. Forgive me, my dear sir, if I am too agitated, and confuse my words; but I am so dreadfully afraid of hearing you refuse me."

He looked at Velchaninoff plaintively.

"You wish me to accompany you to see your bride?" said Velchaninoff, staring keenly at Pavel Pavlovitch; he could not believe either his eyes or his ears.

"Yes-yes, sir!" murmured Pavel, who had suddenly become timid to a painful degree. "Don't be angry, Alexey Ivanovitch, it is not my audacity that prompts me to ask you this; I do it with all humility, and conscious of the unusual nature of my pet.i.tion. I-I thought perhaps you would not refuse my humble request."

"In the first place, the thing is absolutely out of the question," said Velchaninoff, turning away in considerable mental perturbation.

"It is only my immeasurable longing that prompts me to ask you. I confess I have a reason for desiring it, which reason I propose to reveal to you afterwards; just now I--"

"The thing is quite impossible, however you may look at it. You must admit yourself that it is so!" cried Velchaninoff. Both men had risen from their chairs in the excitement of the conversation.

"Not at all-not at all; it is quite possible, sir. In the first place, I merely propose to introduce you as my friend; and in the second place, you know the family already, the Zachlebnikoff's-State Councillor Zachlebnikoff!"

"What? how so?" cried Velchaninoff. This was the very man whom he had so often tried to find at home, and whom he never succeeded in hunting down-the very lawyer who had acted for his adversary in the late legal proceedings.

"Why, certainly-certainly!" cried Pavel Pavlovitch, apparently taking heart at Velchaninoff's extreme display of amazement. "The very same man whom I saw you talking to in the street one day; when I watched you from the other side of the road, I was waiting my turn to speak to him then. We served in the same department twelve years since. I had no thought of all this that day I saw you with him; the whole idea is quite new and sudden-only a week old."

"But-excuse me; why, surely this is a most respectable family, isn't it?"

asked Velchaninoff, navely.

"Well, and what if it is respectable?" said Pavel, with a twist.

"Oh, no-of course, I meant nothing; but, so far as I could judge from what I saw, there--"

"They remember-they remember your coming down," cried Pavel delightedly.

"I told them all sorts of flattering things about you."

"But, look here, how are you to marry within three months of your late wife's death?"

"Oh! the wedding needn't be at once. The wedding can come off in nine or ten months, so that I shall have been in mourning exactly a year. Believe me, my dear sir, it's all most charming-first place, Fedosie Petrovitch has known me since I was a child; he knew my late wife; he knows how much income I have; he knows all about my little private capital, and all about my new increase of salary. So that you see the whole thing is a mere matter of weights and scales."

"Is she a daughter of his, then?"

"I'll tell you all about it," said Pavel, licking his lips with pleasure.

"May I smoke a cigarette? Now, you see, men like Fedosie Petrovitch Zachlebnikoff are much valued in the State; but, excepting for a few perquisites allowed them, the pay is wretched; they live well enough, but they cannot possibly lay by money. Now, imagine, this man has eight daughters and only one little boy: if he were to die there would be nothing but a wretched little pension to keep the lot of them. Just imagine now-_boots_ alone for such a family, eh? Well, out of these eight girls five are marriageable, the eldest is twenty-four already (a splendid girl, she is, you shall see her for yourself). The sixth is a girl of fifteen, still at school. Well, all those five elder girls have to be trotted about and shown off, and what does all that sort of thing cost the poor father, sir? They must be married. Then suddenly I appear on the scene-the first probable bridegroom in the family, and they all know that I have money. Well, there you are, sir-the thing's done."

Pavel Pavlovitch was intoxicated with enthusiasm.

"Are you engaged to the eldest?"

"N-no;-not the eldest. I am wooing the sixth girl, the one at school."

"What?" cried Velchaninoff, laughing in spite of himself. "Why, you say yourself she's only fifteen years old."

"Fifteen _now_, sir; but she'll be sixteen in nine months-sixteen and three months-so why not? It wouldn't be quite nice to make the engagement public just yet, though; so there's to be nothing formal at present, it's only a private arrangement between the parents and myself so far. Believe me, my dear sir, the whole thing is apple-pie, regular and charming."

"Then it isn't quite settled yet?"

"Oh, _quite_ settled-quite settled. Believe me, it's all as right and tight as--"

"Does _she_ know?"

"Well, you see, just for form's sake, it is not actually talked about-to her I mean,-but she _knows_ well enough. Oh! now you _will_ make me happy this once, Alexey Ivanovitch, won't you?" he concluded, with extreme timidity of voice and manner.

"But why should _I_ go with you? However," added Velchaninoff impatiently, "as I am not going in any case, I don't see why I should hear any reasons you may adduce for my accompanying you."

"Alexey Ivanovitch!--"

"Oh, come! you don't suppose I am going to sit down in a carriage with you alongside, and drive down there! Come, just think for yourself!"

The feeling of disgust and displeasure which Pavel Pavlovitch had awakened in him before, had now started into life again after the momentary distraction of the man's foolery about his bride. He felt that in another minute or two he might kick the fellow out before he realized what he was doing. He felt angry with himself for some reason or other.