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Updated: June 6, 2025
"And you, Nejdanov, are you prepared?" Nejdanov frowned slightly. "Why ask? You will see when the time comes." "I do not doubt you, Nejdanov. I only asked because it seemed to me that besides yourself nobody else was prepared." "And Markelov?" "Why, of course, Markelov! But then, he was born prepared."
"Oh, don't pretend, for heaven's sake, you happy Don Juan, you myrtle-crowned lover!" Markelov shouted, quite forgetting the coachman, who, though he did not turn round on the box, must have heard every word. It is true the coachman was at that moment more occupied with the road than with what the gentlemen were saying behind him.
Here he remembered Paklin's sister and could have bitten his tongue off. Fomishka went red in the face and muttered: "You see it is not my fault... she herself " Pufka simply flew at Markelov. "How dare you insult our masters?" she screamed out in her lisping voice. "What is it to you that they took me in, brought me up, and gave me meat and drink? Can't you bear to see another's good fortune, eh?
God knows how it would have ended had not Paklin intervened. "What is the matter?" he began, gesticulating with his hands and laughing loudly. "I wonder you are not ashamed of yourselves! Mr. Markelov only meant it as a joke. He has such a solemn face that it sounded a little severe and you took him seriously! Calm yourself!
Markelov was already known to him. This was Pavel, Solomin's factotum. Solomin approached the two visitors slowly and without a word, pressed the hand of each in turn in his own hard bony one. He opened a drawer, pulled out a sealed letter, which he handed to Pavel, also without a word, and the latter immediately left the room.
Nejdanov extended his hand to Markelov, offered him a chair, and sat down himself. Markelov, without saying a word, began lighting a cigarette; Nejdanov followed his example. "Have you managed to come in contact with the peasants here?" Markelov asked at last. "No, I haven't had time as yet." "How long have you been here?" "About a fortnight." "Have you much to do?" "Not very much."
She did not understand a word of what Markelov had said, but she felt that the "black one" was scolding, and how dared he! Vassilievna also muttered something, while Fomishka folded his hands across his breast and turned to his wife. "Fimishka, my darling," he began, almost in tears; "do you hear what the gentleman is saying?
But Markelov was standing in a corner biting his moustache. The old servant came into the room carrying a candle. Markelov started. "It's time we were in bed, Alexai," he said. "Morning is wiser than evening. You shall have the horses tomorrow. Goodbye." "And goodbye to you too, old fellow," he added turning to the servant and slapping him on the shoulder. "Don't be angry with me!"
How he would begin touching his cap to me it would be a pleasure to see him!" "Rubbish, you swaggering little braggart!" Nejdanov almost shouted from above, but at this moment the door opened and, to his great astonishment, Markelov entered the room.
Sipiagin introduced Nejdanov to him as his beaufrere'a, Valentina Mihailovna's brother Sergai Mihailovitch Markelov. "I hope you will get to know each other and be friends, gentlemen," Sipiagin exclaimed with the amiable, stately, though absent-minded smile characteristic of him.
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