he street-boys
used to catch marmots, for instance, on the spot where now the
station was standing; now when one drove into the chief street, a
hotel of four storeys stood facing one; in old days there was an
ugly grey fence just there; but nothing--neither fences nor houses
--had changed as much as the people. From his enquiries of the
hotel waiter Uzelkov learned that more than half of the people he
remembered were dead, reduced to poverty, forgotten.

"And do you remember Uzelkov?" he asked the old waiter about himself.
"Uzelkov the architect who divorced his wife? He used to have a
house in Svirebeyevsky Street . . . you must remember."

"I don't remember, sir."

"How is it you don't remember? The case made a lot of noise, even
the cabmen all knew about it. Think, now! Shapkin the attorney
managed my divorce for me, the rascal . . . the notorious cardsharper,
the fellow who got a thrashing at the club. . . ."

"Ivan Nikolaitch?"

"Yes, yes. . . . Well, is he alive? Is he dead?"

"Alive, sir, thank God. He is a notary now and has an office. He
is very well off. He has two houses in Kirpitchny Street. . . . His
daughter was married the other day."

Uzelkov paced up and down the room, thought a bit, and in his boredom
made up his mind to go and see Shapkin at his office. When he walked
out of the hotel and sauntered slowly towards Kirpitchny Street it
was midday. He found Shapkin at his office and scarcely recognized
him. From the once well-made, adroit attorney with a mobile, insolent,
and always drunken face Shapkin had changed into a modest, grey-headed,
decrepit old man.

"You don't recognize me, you have forgotten me," began Uzelkov. "I
am your old client, Uzelkov."

"Uzelkov, what Uzelkov? Ah!" Shapkin remembered, recognized, and
was struck all of a heap. There followed a shower of exclamations,
questions, recollections.

"This is a surprise! This is unexpected!" cackled Shapkin. "What
can I offer you? Do you care for champagne? Perhaps you would like
oysters? My dear fellow, I have had so much from you in my time
that I can't offer you anything equal to the occasion. . . ."

"Please don't put yourself out . . ." said Uzelkov. "I have no time
to spare. I must go at once to the cemetery and examine the church;
I have undertaken the restoration of it."

"That's capital! We'll have a snack and a drink and drive together.
I have capital horses. I'll take you there and introduce you to the
church-ward