hoped that you... (Volintsev made a movement of impatience). ... Excuse
me, I will say no more of this. Reflecting upon it all, I see indeed,
you are right, you could not have behaved otherwise. Good-bye, and allow
me, at least once more, for the last time, to assure you of the purity
of my intentions.... I am convinced of your discretion.'

'That is too much!' cried Volintsev, shaking with anger, 'I never asked
for your confidence; and so you have no right whatever to reckon on my
discretion!'

Rudin was about to say something, but he only waved his hands, bowed and
went away, and Volintsev flung himself on the sofa and turned his face
to the wall.

'May I come in?' Alexandra Pavlovna's voice was heard saying at the
door.

Volintsev did not answer at once, and stealthily passed his hand over
his face. 'No, Sasha,' he said, in a slightly altered voice, 'wait a
little longer.'

Half an hour later, Alexandra Pavlovna again came to the door.

'Mihailo Mihailitch is here,' she said, 'will you see him?'

'Yes,' answered Volintsev, 'let them show him up here.'

Lezhnyov came in.

'What, aren't you well?' he asked, seating himself in a chair near the
sofa.

Volintsev raised himself, and, leaning on his elbow gazed a long,
long while into his friend's face, and then repeated to him his whole
conversation with Rudin word for word. He had never before given
Lezhnyov a hint of his sentiments towards Natalya, though he guessed
they were no secret to him.

'Well, brother, you have surprised me!' Lezhnyov said, as soon as
Volintsev had finished his story. 'I expected many strange things from
him, but this is----Still I can see him in it.'

'Upon my honour!' cried Volintsev, in great excitement, 'it is simply
insolence! Why, I almost threw him out of the window. Did he want to
boast to me or was he afraid? What was the object of it? How could he
make up his mind to come to a man----?'

Volintsev clasped his hands over his head and was speechless.

'No, brother, that's not it,' replied Lezhnyov tranquilly; 'you won't
believe me, but he really did it from a good motive. Yes, indeed. It
was generous, do you see, and candid, to be sure, and it would offer an
opportunity of speechifying and giving vent to his fine talk, and, of
course, that's what he wants, what he can't live without. Ah! his tongue
is his enemy. Though it's a good servant to him too.'

'With what solemnity he came in and talked, you can't imagine!'

'