"But don't trouble yourself; I can wait, and now let us go to
Arinúshka's."

What could you expect? I finished my day as foolishly as I had begun it.
We supped with this Arinúshka. Zourine always filled up my glass,
repeating that I must get accustomed to the service.

Upon leaving the table I could scarcely stand. At midnight Zourine took
me back to the inn.

Savéliitch came to meet us at the door.

"What has befallen you?" he said to me in a melancholy voice, when he
saw the undoubted signs of my zeal for the service. "Where did you thus
swill yourself? Oh! good heavens! such a misfortune never happened
before."

"Hold your tongue, old owl," I replied, stammering; "I am sure you are
drunk. Go to bed, ... but first help me to bed."

The next day I awoke with a bad headache. I only remembered confusedly
the occurrences of the past evening. My meditations were broken by
Savéliitch, who came into my room with a cup of tea.

"You begin early making free, Petr' Andréjïtch," he said to me, shaking
his head. "Well, where do you get it from? It seems to me that neither
your father nor your grandfather were drunkards. We needn't talk of
your mother; she has never touched a drop of anything since she was
born, except '_kvass_.'[14] So whose fault is it? Whose but the