I thought then. What if he too? What if that one, I thought; what if he too . . . whom can I trust after that!"
Pavel Pavlovitch suddenly burst into tears.
"So you understand, you're the one friend left me now!"
And he ran with his hat out of the room. Velchaninov again stood still for some minutes in the same place, just as he had done after Pavel Pavlovitch's first visit.
"Ah! a drunken fool and nothing more!" He waved his hand, dismissing the subject.
"Absolutely nothing more," he repeated energetically as he undressed and got into bed.
CHAPTER VIII
Liza Ill
Next morning Velchaninov walked about his room expecting Pavel Pavlovitch, who had promised to arrive in good time to go to the Pogoryeltsevs. As he smoked and sipped his coffee he was conscious at every moment that he was like a man who, on waking up in the morning cannot forget for one instant that he has received a slap in the face overnight. "H'm! . . . he quite understands the position and will take his revenge on me through Liza!" he thought with horror.
The charming figure of the poor child rose mournfully before him for a moment. His heart beat faster at the thought that he would soon, within two hours, see his Liza again. "Ah! it's no use talking about it!" he decided hotly—"It's my whole life and my whole object now! what do slaps in the face or memories of the past matter? What has my life been till now? Muddle and sadness . . . but now—it's all different, everything's changed!"
But in spite of his enthusiasm, he grew more and more doubtful.
"He is tormenting me by means of Liza—that's clear! And he is tormenting Liza too. It's in that way he will devour me utterly in revenge for everything. H'm! . . . Of course, I can't allow him to go on as he did yesterday"—he flushed crimson all at once—"and . . . here it's twelve o'clock, though, he doesn't come."
He waited a long time, till half-past twelve, and his depression
