"Oh, my God, my God! . . ." sighed Samoylenko, scratching himself.
"I was dropping asleep and I hear the whistle of the steamer, and
now you . . . Do you want much?"

"Three hundred roubles at least. I must leave her a hundred, and I
need two hundred for the journey. . . . I owe you about four hundred
already, but I will send it you all . . . all. . . ."

Samoylenko took hold of both his whiskers in one hand, and standing
with his legs wide apart, pondered.

"Yes . . ." he muttered, musing. "Three hundred. . . . Yes. . . .
But I haven't got so much. I shall have to borrow it from some one."

"Borrow it, for God's sake!" said Laevsky, seeing from Samoylenko's
face that he wanted to lend him the money and certainly would lend
it. "Borrow it, and I'll be sure to pay you back. I will send it
from Petersburg as soon as I get there. You can set your mind at
rest about that. I'll tell you what, Sasha," he said, growing more
animated; "let us have some wine."

"Yes . . . we can have some wine, too."

They both went into the dining-room.

"And how about Nadyezhda Fyodorovna?" asked Samoylenko, setting
three bottles and a plate of peaches on the table. "Surely she's
not remaining?"

"I will arrange it all, I will arrange it all," said Laevsky, feeling