ng something.

Voldyrev frowned and looked hopelessly at the whole scribbling
brotherhood.

"They write!" he thought, sighing. "They write, the devil take them
entirely!"

He walked away from the table and stopped in the middle of the room,
his hands hanging hopelessly at his sides. The porter, passing again
with glasses, probably noticed the helpless expression of his face,
for he went close up to him and asked him in a low voice:

"Well? Have you inquired?"

"I've inquired, but he wouldn't speak to me."

"You give him three roubles," whispered the porter.

"I've given him two already."

"Give him another."

Voldyrev went back to the table and laid a green note on the open
book.

The clerk drew the book towards him again and began turning over
the leaves, and all at once, as though by chance, lifted his eyes
to Voldyrev. His nose began to shine, turned red, and wrinkled up
in a grin.

"Ah . . . what do you want?" he asked.

"I want to make an inquiry in reference to my case. . . . My name
is Voldyrev."

"With pleasure! The Gugulin case, isn't it? Very good. What is it
then exactly?"

Voldyrev explained his business.

The clerk became as lively as though he were whirled round by a
hurricane. He gave the necessary information, arranged for a copy
to be made, gave the petitioner a chair, and all in one instant.
He even spoke about the weather and asked after the harvest. And
when Voldyrev went away he accompanied him down the stairs, smiling
affably and respectfully, and looking as though he were ready any
minute to fall on his face before the gentleman. Voldyrev for some
reason felt uncomfortable, and in obedience to some inward impulse
he took a rouble out of his pocket and gave it to the clerk. And
the latter kept bowing and smiling, and took the rouble like a
conjuror, so that it seemed to flash through the air.

"Well, what people!" thought the country gentleman as he went out
into the street, and he stopped and mopped his brow with his
handkerchief.

MARTYRS

LIZOTCHKA KUDRINSKY, a young married lady who had many admirers,
was suddenly taken ill, and so seriously that her husband did not
go to his office, and a telegram was sent to her mamma at Tver.
This is how she told the story of her illness:

"I went to Lyesnoe to auntie's. I stayed there a week and then I
went with all the rest to cousin Varya's. Varya's husband is a surly
brute and a despot (I'd shoot a husband like that), but w