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"Why don't you say that you have no money? Here, take my ticket." "But what are you going to do?" "He can go into his cousin's box," said Dubkoff. "No, I'm not going at all," replied Nechludoff. "Why?" "Because I hate sitting in a box." "And for what reason?" "I don't know. Somehow I feel uncomfortable there." "Always the same!
Woloda must have lost, for the gentleman who was watching the play remarked that Vladimir Petrovitch had terribly bad luck, while Dubkoff reached for a note book, wrote something in it, and then, showing Woloda what he had written, said: "Is that right?" "Yes." said Woloda, glancing with feigned carelessness at the note book. "Now let us go."
Only Dimitri, though he drank level with the rest of us, continued in the same severe, serious frame of mind a fact which put a certain check upon the general hilarity. "Now, look here, gentlemen," said Dubkoff at last. "After dinner we ought to take the DIPLOMAT in hand. How would it be for him to go with us to see Auntie? There we could put him through his paces."
I should have remembered that seldom did an evening pass but Dubkoff would first have, an argument about something, and then read in a sententious voice either some verses beginning "Au banquet de la vie, infortune convive" or extracts from The Demon. In short, I should have remembered what nonsense they used to chatter for hours at a time.
This I feigned to say in a gay and jesting manner, yet in reality I was imploring help of the very Dubkoff to whom I had cried "Hold your tongue!" on the night of the matriculation dinner. By way of answer, he made as though he had not heard me, and turned away. Next, I approached Woloda, and said with an effort and in a similar tone of assumed gaiety: "Hullo, Woloda! Are you played out yet?"
Instead of dealing, however, Dubkoff rose and shook hands with us; after which he bade us both be seated, and then offered us pipes, which we declined. "Here is our DIPLOMAT, then the hero of the day!" he said to me, "Good Lord! how you look like a colonel!" "H-m!" I muttered in reply, though once more feeling a complacent smile overspread my countenance.
Dubkoff may have been a much better fellow than myself, or he may have been a much worse; but the point was that he lied very frequently without recognising the fact that I was aware of his doing so, yet had determined not to mention it. "Let us play another round," said Woloda, hunching one shoulder after the manner of Papa, and reshuffling the cards. "How persistent you are!" said Dubkoff.
"He ought not to do that," I remarked. "So Woloda does not play so well as he does?" "Perhaps Dubkoff ought not to, as you say, yet there is nothing especially bad about it all. He likes playing, and plays well, but he is a good fellow all the same." "I had no idea of this," I said. "We must not think ill of him," concluded Dimitri, "since he is a simply splendid fellow.
We found Dubkoff and Woloda engaged in cards, while seated also at the table, and watching the game with close attention, was a gentleman whom I did not know, but who appeared to be of no great importance, judging by the modesty of his attitude. On seeing me, he reddened still more. "Well, it is for you to deal," he remarked to Dubkoff.
After that, things went on merrily. Dubkoff continued his unending fairy tales, while Woloda also told funny stories and told them well, too in a way I should never have credited him: so that our laughter rang long and loud. Their best efforts lay in imitation, and in variants of a certain well-known saw. "Have you ever been abroad?" one would say to the other, for instance.
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