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Lavretsky was about to acquaint him with his new position, but Mihalevitch interrupted him, muttering hurriedly, "I have heard, my dear fellow, I have heard who could have anticipated it?" and at once turned the conversation upon general subjects. "I must set off to-morrow, my dear fellow," he observed; "to-day if you will excuse it, we will sit up late.
"Silence, ceeneec!" cried Mihalevitch. "Cynic," Lavretsky corrected him. "Ceeneec, just so," repeated Mihalevitch unabashed.
Mihalevitch fell to reading his poem: it was rather long, and ended with the following lines: "I gave myself to new feelings with all my heart, And my soul became as a child's! And I have burnt all I adored And now adore all that I burnt." As he uttered the two last lines, Mihalevitch all but shed tears; a slight spasm the sign of deep emotion passed over his wide mouth, his ugly face lighted up.
There were rumours, it is true, that this "noble Polish lady" was a simple Jewess, very well known to a good many cavalry officers but, after all, what do you think does it really make any difference? With Lemm, Mihalevitch did not get on; his noisy talk and brusque manners scared the German, who was unused to such behaviour.
"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.
But the friends talked for more than hour longer. Their voices were no longer raised, however, and their talk was quiet, sad, friendly talk. Mihalevitch set off the next day, in spite of all Lavretsky's efforts to keep him. Fedor Ivanitch did not succeed in persuading him to remain; but he talked to him to his heart's content. Mihalevitch, it appeared, had not a penny to bless himself with.
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