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Ostrodumov took it, lit a large match, which exhaled a strong odour of sulphur, lifted the paper high above his head, as if showing it to all present, set fire to it, and, regardless of his fingers, put the ashes into the stove. No one moved or pronounced a word during this proceeding; all had their eyes fixed on the floor.
As soon as Mashurina and Ostrodumov caught sight of this head, an expression of contempt mixed with condescension came over their faces, as if each was thinking inwardly, "What a nuisance!" but neither moved nor uttered a single word. The newly arrived guest was not in the least taken aback by this reception, however; on the contrary it seemed to amuse him.
"Oh, nothing in particular, only that it is impossible to show one's nose in this hateful town without knocking against some vulgarity, stupidity, tittle-tattle, or some horrible injustice. One can't live here any longer!" "Is that why your advertisement in the papers says that you want a place and have no objection to leaving St. Petersburg?" Ostrodumov asked. "Yes.
"You are in need of money, for instance," Paklin continued with new force, paying no attention to Mashurina; "Nejdanov hasn't any. I could get it for you." Nejdanov wheeled round from the window. "No, no. It is not necessary. I can get the money. I will draw some of my allowance in advance. Now I recollect, they owe me something. Let us look at the letter, Ostrodumov."
A year after I quarrelled with this same friend, and in his farewell letter to me he wrote, 'You who killed your own uncle! You who were not ashamed to insult an honourable lady by sitting with your back to her, and so on and so on. Here are friends for you!" Ostrodumov and Mashurina exchanged glances. "Alexai Dmitritch!"
Mashurina turned away and bit her lip; Ostrodumov muttered, "At last!" Paklin was the first to approach him. "Why, what is the matter, Alexai Dmitritch, Hamlet of Russia? Has something happened, or are you just simply depressed, without any particular cause? "Oh, stop! Mephistopheles of Russia!" Nejdanov exclaimed irritably. "I am not in the mood for fencing with blunt witticisms just now."
Mashurina stood looking at him intently for some time, shook her head, and drew it back again. Nejdanov sat up straight, and suddenly catching sight of her, exclaimed with some annoyance: "Oh, is that you?" and thrust the copy-book into the drawer again. Mashurina came into the room with a firm step. "Ostrodumov asked me to come," she began deliberately.
And really, when Paklin was not laughing, when he was silent, his face assumed a dejected, almost scared expression; it became funny and rather sarcastic only when he opened his lips. Ostrodumov did not say anything, however, and Paklin turned to Mashurina again. "Well? And how are your studies getting on? Have you made any progress in your truly philanthropical art?
He caught sight of Paklin's ten-rouble note, put it in his pocket, and began pacing up and down the room. "I must get some money in advance," he thought to himself. "What a good thing this gentleman suggested it. A hundred roubles... a hundred from my brothers their excellencies.... I want fifty to pay my debts, fifty or seventy for the journey and the rest Ostrodumov can have.
The visitor bowed from the waist, drew a chair to himself, but did not sit down, as every one else was standing. He merely gazed around the room with his bright though half-closed eyes. "Goodbye, Alexai Dmitritch," Mashurina exclaimed suddenly. "I will come again presently." "And I too," Ostrodumov added.
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