He decided to consult (of course mentioning no names) one of his
acquaintances, an attorney, retired from practice, or perhaps struck
off the rolls, an old and experienced hand at all sorts of clandestine
business. This worthy person did not live near; Insarov was a whole
hour in getting to him in a very sorry droshky, and, to make matters
worse, he did not find him at home; and on his way back got soaked to
the skin by a sudden downpour of rain. The next morning, in spite of a
rather severe headache, Insarov set off a second time to call on the
retired attorney. The retired attorney listened to him attentively,
taking snuff from a snuff-box decorated with a picture of a
full-bosomed nymph, and glancing stealthily at his visitor with his
sly, and also snuff-coloured little eyes; he heard him to the end, and
then demanded 'greater definiteness in the statement of the facts of
the case'; and observing that Insarov was unwilling to launch into
particulars (it was against the grain that he had come to him at all)
he confined himself to the advice to provide himself above all things
with 'the needful,' and asked him to come to him again, 'when you
have,' he added, sniffing at the snuff in the open snuff-box,
'augmented your confidence and decreased your diffidence' (he talked
with a broad accent). 'A passport,' he added, as though to himself,
'is a thing that can be arranged; you go a journey, for instance;
who's to tell whether you're Marya Bredihin or Karolina Vogel-meier?'
A feeling of nausea came over Insarov, but he thanked the attorney,
and promised to come to him again in a day or two.

The same evening he went to the Stahovs. Anna Vassilyevna met him
cordially, reproached him a little for having quite forgotten them,
and, finding him pale, inquired especially after his health. Nikolai
Artemyevitch did not say a single word to him; he only stared at him