and a divided chin
covered with a suggestion of down. He was dressed like a mechanic or a
stoker in an old pea-jacket with baggy pockets, with an oil-skin cap on
his head, a woollen scarf round his neck, and tarred boots on his feet.
He was accompanied by a man of about forty in a peasant coat, who had an
extraordinarily lively gipsy-like face, coal-black piercing eyes, with
which he scanned Nejdanov as soon as he entered the room. Markelov was
already known to him. This was Pavel, Solomin's factotum.

Solomin approached the two visitors slowly and without a word, pressed
the hand of each in turn in his own hard bony one. He opened a drawer,
pulled out a sealed letter, which he handed to Pavel, also without
a word, and the latter immediately left the room. Then he stretched
himself, threw away his cap with one wave of the hand, sat down on
a painted wooden stool and, pointing to a couch, begged Nejdanov and
Markelov to be seated.

Markelov first introduced Nejdanov, whom Solomin again shook by the
hand, then he went on to "business," mentioning Vassily Nikolaevitch's
letter, which Nejdanov handed to Solomin. And while the latter was
reading it carefully, his eyes moving from line to line, Nejdanov sat
watching him. Solomin was near the window and the sun, already low
in the horizon, was shining full on his tanned face covered with
perspiration, on his fair hair covered with dust, making it sparkle like
a mass of gold. His nostrils quivered and distended as he read, and
his lips moved as though he were forming every word. He held the letter
raised tightly in both hands, and when he had finished returned it to
Nejdanov and began listening to Markelov again. The latter talked until
he had exhausted himself.

"I am afraid," Solomin began (his hoarse voice, full of youth
and strength, was pleasing to Nejdanov's ear), "it will be rather
inconvenient to talk here. Why not go to your place? It is only a
question of seven miles. You came in your carriage, did you not?"

"Yes."

"Well, I suppose you can make room for me. I shall have finished my
work in about an hour, and will be quite free. We can talk things
over thoroughly. You are also free, are you not?" he asked, turning to
Nejdanov.

"Until the day after tomorrow."

"That's all right. We can stay the night at your place, Sergai
Mihailovitch, I suppose?

"Of course you may!"

"Good. I shall be ready in a minute. I'll just make myself a little more
presentable."