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She has no friends or relations; she cannot work, and neither she nor I have any money. . . . What could become of her? To whom could she go? There is nothing one can think of. . . . Come, tell me, what am I to do?" "H'm! . . ." growled Samoylenko, not knowing what to answer. "Does she love you?" "Yes, she loves me in so far as at her age and with her temperament she wants a man.
Samoylenko selected a small meadow round which there were scattered stones convenient for sitting on, and a fallen tree blown down by the storm with roots overgrown by moss and dry yellow needles.
It was too late to go and play cards; there were no restaurants in the town. He lay down again and covered his ears that he might not hear her sobbing, and he suddenly remembered that he could go to Samoylenko. To avoid going near Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, he got out of the window into the garden, climbed over the garden fence and went along the street. It was dark.
And in the evening, when one walks in the garden, sounds of the piano float from the house; one hears the train passing. . . ." Laevsky laughed with pleasure; tears came into his eyes, and to cover them, without getting up, he stretched across the next table for the matches. "I have not been in Russia for eighteen years," said Samoylenko. "I've forgotten what it is like.
Laevsky knew that Von Koren did not like him, and so was afraid of him, and felt in his presence as though every one were constrained and some one were standing behind his back. He made no answer and walked away, feeling sorry he had come. "Gentlemen, quick march for brushwood for the fire!" commanded Samoylenko.
"Why didn't you let us know," said Samoylenko angrily. "You dolts!" "It's all the same, don't worry yourself . . ." said Von Koren. "Well, good-bye. God keep you." Samoylenko embraced Von Koren and made the sign of the cross over him three times. "Don't forget us, Kolya. . . . Write. . . . We shall look out for you next spring." "Good-bye, deacon," said Von Koren, shaking hands with the deacon.
The deacon was weighing this question, but he recalled how absurd Samoylenko had looked yesterday, and that broke the thread of his ideas. What fun they would have next day! The deacon imagined how he would sit under a bush and look on, and when Von Koren began boasting next day at dinner, he, the deacon, would begin laughing and telling him all the details of the duel.
Things are in a bad way with Nadyezhda Fyodorovna and me . . . a very bad way! Forgive me for forcing my private affairs upon you, but I must speak out." Samoylenko, who had a misgiving of what he was going to speak about, dropped his eyes and drummed with his fingers on the table.
It would be as difficult for her to do without me as to do without her powder or her curl-papers. I am for her an indispensable, integral part of her boudoir." Samoylenko was embarrassed. "You are out of humour to-day, Vanya," he said. "You must have had a bad night." "Yes, I slept badly. . . . Altogether, I feel horribly out of sorts, brother.
"I would ask Alexandr Daviditch and my friends in general not to trouble so much about me." "Here is Samoylenko; you had better ask him not to trouble so much about you." "I don't understand your tone," Laevsky muttered, suddenly feeling as though he had only just realised that the zoologist hated and despised him, and was jeering at him, and was his bitterest and most inveterate enemy.
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