is coat, which was cut like children's coats in
poor families, pulled up the collar, and began telling some long-winded
story; then, seeing he was not listened to, he flung the rug that
smelt of the nursery over one shoulder, and with a guilty and
imploring face begged me to find his hat.

"_George_, my angel," he said tenderly. "Do as I ask you, dear boy;
come out of town with us!"

"You can go, but I can't. I am in the position of a married man
now."

"She is a dear, she won't be angry. My dear chief, come along! It's
glorious weather; there's snow and frost. . . . Upon my word, you
want shaking up a bit; you are out of humour. I don't know what the
devil is the matter with you. . . ."

Orlov stretched, yawned, and looked at Pekarsky.

"Are you going?" he said, hesitating.

"I don't know. Perhaps."

"Shall I get drunk? All right, I'll come," said Orlov after some
hesitation. "Wait a minute; I'll get some money."

He went into the study, and Gruzin slouched in, too, dragging his
rug after him. A minute later both came back into the hall. Gruzin,
a little drunk and very pleased, was crumpling a ten-rouble note
in his hands.

"We'll settle up to-morrow," he said. "And she is kind, she won't
be cross. . . . She is my Lisotchka's godmother; I am fond of her,
poor thing! Ah, my dear fellow!" he laughed joyfully, and pressing
his forehead on Pekarsky's back. "Ah, Pekarsky, my dear soul!
Advocatissimus--as dry as a biscuit, but you bet he is fond of
women. . . ."

"Fat ones," said Orlov, putting on his fur coat. "But let us get
off, or we shall be meeting her on the doorstep."

"_'Vieni pensando a me segretamente,'_" hummed Gruzin.

At last they drove off: Orlov did not sleep at home, and returned
next day at dinner-time.

VI

Zinaida Fyodorovna had lost her gold watch, a present from her
father. This loss surprised and alarmed her. She spent half a day
going through the rooms, looking helplessly on all the tables and
on all the windows. But the watch had disappeared completely.

Only three days afterwards Zinaida Fyodorovna, on coming in, left
her purse in the hall. Luckily for me, on that occasion it was not
I but Polya who helped her off with her coat. When the purse was
missed, it could not be found in the hall.

"Strange," said Zinaida Fyodorovna in bewilderment. "I distinctly
remember taking it out of my pocket to pay the cabman . . . and
then I put it here near the looking-glass. It's very odd!"