'No, Nikolai Artemyevitch, you've not been yourself ever since you
arrived. You have even to my eyes grown thinner lately. I am afraid
your treatment is doing you no good.'

'The treatment is quite indispensable,' observed Nikolai Artemyevitch,
'my liver is affected.'

At that instant Shubin came in. He looked tired. A slight almost
ironical smile played on his lips.

'You asked for me, Anna Vassilyevna?' he observed.

'Yes, certainly I asked for you. Really, Paul, this is dreadful. I am
very much displeased with you. How could you be wanting in respect to
Nikolai Artemyevitch?'

'Nikolai Artemyevitch has complained of me to you?' inquired Shubin,
and with the same smile on his lips he looked at Stahov. The latter
turned away, dropping his eyes.

'Yes, he complains of you. I don't know what you have done amiss, but
you ought to apologise at once, because his health is very much
deranged just now, and indeed we all ought when we are young to treat
our benefactors with respect.'

'Ah, what logic!' thought Shubin, and he turned to Stahov. 'I am
ready to apologise to you, Nikolai Artemyevitch,' he said with a
polite half-bow, 'if I have really offended you in any way.'