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Mihalevitch offered to introduce him; Lavretsky blushed, muttered something unintelligible, and ran away. For five whole days he struggled with his timidity; on the sixth he got into a new uniform and placed himself at Mihalevitch's disposal. Paul Petrovitch Korobyin was a retired major-general.
"Perhaps he is right, after all," he thought as he went back into the house; "perhaps I am a loafer." Many of Mihalevitch's words had sunk irresistibly into his heart, though he had disputed and disagreed with him. If a man only has a good heart, no one can resist him. Two days later, Marya Dmitrievna visited Vassilyevskoe according to her promise, with all her young people.
For five whole days he was struggling with his timidity; on the sixth day the young Spartan got into a new uniform and placed himself at Mihalevitch's disposal. The latter being his own valet, confined himself to combing his hair and both betook themselves to the Korobyins.
"What are you after all? a pessimist?" cried Mihalevitch at one o'clock in the night. "Are pessimists usually like this?" replied Lavretsky. "They are usually all pale and sickly would you like me to lift you with one hand?" "Well, if you are not a pessimist you are a scepteec, that's still worse." Mihalevitch's talk had a strong flavour of his mother-country, Little Russia.
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