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Therefore, there is but one thing left me...This thought came into my head this morning..." "Don't, don't do it, Jennechka! ... Jennie! ..." Platonov quickly interrupted her. "There's one thing: to hang myself..."
The first time they treated him gently; on the second day, however, for every mistake they began to deduct from him five kopecks per watermelon out of the common share. The following time when this happened, they threatened to throw him out of the party at once, without any reckoning. Platonov even now still remembered how a sudden fury seized him: "Ah, so? The devil take you!" he had thought.
But still, the devil take the whole of this idiotical day and that equivocal reasoner the reporter Platonov, and his own Lichonin's absurd outburst of chivalry! Just as though, in reality, this had not taken place in real life, but in Chernishevski's novel, What's to be done? And how, devil take it, with what eyes will I look upon her tomorrow?"
"Zoe, shut her mouth!" said Platonov. "He just jumped up at once and ... app! ..." and Niura's torrent instantly broke off, stopped up by Zoe's palm. Everybody burst out laughing, only Boris Sobashnikov muttered under cover of the noise with a contemptuous look: "OH, CHEVALIER SANS PEUR ET SANS REPROCHE!"
To the silent question in Tamara's eyes Jennie made a wry face of disgust, shivered with her back and nodded her head affirmatively. "He's gone... Brrr! ..." Platonov was looking at Jennie with extraordinary attentiveness. He distinguished her from the rest of the girls and almost respected her for her abrupt, refractory, and impudently mocking character.
"She'll come back," said Platonov. "She will," Jennie repeated with conviction. Lichonin walked up to her, took her by the hands and began to speak in a trembling whisper: "Jennechka ... Perhaps you ... eh? For I don't call you as a mistress ... but a friend ... It's all a trifle, half a year of rest ... and then we'll master some trade or other ... we'll read..."
"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you my companion in arms in the newspaper game, Sergei Ivanovich Platonov. The laziest and most talented of newspaper workers." They all introduced themselves, indistinctly muttering out their names.
"There's something working upon you, Jennie," said Platonov quietly. Caressingly, she just barely drew her fingers over his arm. "Don't pay any attention. Just so ... our womanish affairs ... It won't be interesting to you."
It was just this that I wanted to ask you about, Platonov, and you must help me ... Only, I implore you, without jeers, without cooling off ..." "You want to take a girl out of here? To save her?" asked Platonov, looking at him attentively. He now understood the drift of this entire conversation. "Yes ... I don't know ... I'll try ..." answered Lichonin uncertainly.
The precipitate and incongruous quarrel of Platonov and Sobashnikov long served as a subject of conversation. The reporter, in cases like this, always felt shame, uneasiness, regret and the torments of conscience. And despite the fact that all those who remained were on his side, he was speaking with weariness in his voice: "By God, gentlemen! I'll go away, best of all.
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