"Excuse me, Alexandr Daviditch, I must say two words to you."

Samoylenko got up, put his arm round Laevsky's waist, and both of
them went into Nikodim Alexandritch's study.

"To-morrow's Friday," said Laevsky, biting his nails. "Have you got
what you promised?"

"I've only got two hundred. I'll get the rest to-day or to-morrow.
Don't worry yourself."

"Thank God . . ." sighed Laevsky, and his hands began trembling
with joy. "You are saving me, Alexandr Daviditch, and I swear to
you by God, by my happiness and anything you like, I'll send you
the money as soon as I arrive. And I'll send you my old debt too."

"Look here, Vanya . . ." said Samoylenko, turning crimson and taking
him by the button. "You must forgive my meddling in your private
affairs, but . . . why shouldn't you take Nadyezhda Fyodorovna with
you?"

"You queer fellow. How is that possible? One of us must stay, or
our creditors will raise an outcry. You see, I owe seven hundred
or more to the shops. Only wait, and I will send them the money.
I'll stop their mouths, and then she can come away."

"I see. . . . But why shouldn't you send her on first?"

"My goodness, as though that were possible!" Laevsky was horrified.