'You'll find out what. Come along, Piotr.'

'Aha!' pursued Viktor; 'our noble-hearted knight takes refuge in flight.
He doesn't care to hear the truth, that's evident! It stings--the truth
does, it seems!'

'Come along, Piotr,' Fustov repeated, completely losing his habitual
coolness and self-possession.

'Let's leave this wretch of a boy!'

'The boy's not afraid of you, do you hear,' Viktor shouted after us, 'he
despises you, the boy does! Do you hear!'

Fustov walked so quickly along the street that I had difficulty in
keeping up with him. All at once he stopped short and turned sharply
back.

'Where are you going?' I asked.

'Oh, I must find out what the idiot.... He's drunk, no doubt, God knows
what.... Only don't you follow me... we shall see each other to-morrow.
Good-bye!'

And hurriedly pressing my hand, Fustov set off towards Yar's hotel.

Next day I missed seeing Fustov; and on the day after that, on going to
his rooms, I learned that he had gone into the country to his uncle's,
near Moscow. I inquired if he had left no note for me, but no note was
forth-coming. Then I asked the servant whether he knew how long