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However, Nejdanov was more amused than annoyed with the whole proceeding, and the amiable hostess, Valentina Mihailovna, seemed to him to be an intelligent woman, who was aware that she was playing a part, but pleased to think that there was someone else intelligent enough to understand her. Nejdanov probably had no suspicion of the degree in which he was flattered by her attitude towards him.
There was something similar about these two smokers, although their features were not a bit alike. "Have you seen Nejdanov?" Ostrodumov asked. "Yes. He will be back directly. He has gone to the library with some books." Ostrodumov spat to one side. "Why is he always rushing about nowadays? One can never get hold of him." Mashurina took out another cigarette.
"What sort of a man is he?" Nejdanov asked, coming out of his corner. "Oh, he's not bad... knows what he's about. One of the new generation. He's very polite, wears cuffs, and has his eyes about him no less than the old sort.
A general with numerous orders glittering on his breast sat on his right, and on his left this same elegant Sipiagin, whose appearance two days later at Nejdanov's so astonished Mashurina and Ostrodumov. The general stared at Nejdanov every now and again, as though at something indecent, out of place, and offensive. Sipiagin looked at him sideways, but did not seem unfriendly.
The latter had not the slightest suspicion that the "little cripple" every now and again whispered to Nejdanov, who happened to be sitting beside him, the most unflattering remarks at his, Golushkin's, expense. He thought him "a simple sort of fellow" who might be patronised; that was probably why he liked him.
"They wouldn't have been of any use in any case. I have money to buy what is necessary." "We'll see to that later on... Ah!" he exclaimed, pointing to Pavel who was at that moment coming in together with Nejdanov and the luggage from The cart, "I can recommend you my best friend here. You may rely on him absolutely, as you would on me.
"Well," she began, "tell me quickly what you've decided." Nejdanov was surprised. "Decided? Why, was it necessary to decide anything just now?" "Oh, you know what I mean. Tell me what you talked about, whom you've seen if you've met Solomin. Tell me everything, everything. But wait a moment; let us go on a little further. I know a spot not quite so conspicuous as this."
I will be a severe critic, I promise you." It took Nejdanov a long time before he consented, but he gave in at last and began reading aloud out of his copybook. Mariana sat close to him and gazed into his face as he read. She had been right; she turned out to be a very severe critic. Very few of the verses pleased her.
"Give me your hand. I must thank you for your kindness and hospitality." Solomin smiled. "What an idea!" He extended his hand. "There's another thing I wished to say," Nejdanov continued. "Supposing anything were to happen to me, may I hope that you won't abandon Mariana?" "Your future wife? "Yes... Mariana!" "I don't think anything is likely to happen to you, but you may set your mind at rest.
Markelov's face grew blacker than night, but he did not utter a word. He ordered the book to be returned, and when he caught sight of Nejdanov coming downstairs, greeted him just as usual and did not even forget to give him the promised packet of Kisliakov's letters. He did not stay with him however, but went out to see to the farm.
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