Piotr, after cleaning out the ash-tray and bringing the cigar-holder, leaves the room.
"I did not want to appear before you as a wounded hero."
"Why didn't you write me, then?"
"Da! I thought that I should be able to put on my coat right away; that is, day before yesterday; and day before yesterday, I expected to put it on yesterday; and yesterday, to-day. I thought it was not worth while to worry you."
"Yes, and you have worried me all the more. It was not nice of you, Mr. Beaumont. And when shall you finish this business of yours?"
"Da! probably in a day or two; the delay is not our fault. Mr. Lotter and I are all ready, but it is the stockholders."
"And what have you been reading?"
"A new novel by Thackeray. How can a man write himself out so when he has such a talent! It is because his fund of ideas is getting low."
"I have read it; it is quite true." And she went on to speak of Thackeray's failing powers. Then they so spoke about half an hour on various other topics in the very same manner.
"Well, it is almost time for me to go to Viéra Pavlovna. When do you want to make her acquaintance? They are lovely people."
"I will try to arrange to do it soon; I will ask you to introduce me. I am very grateful to you for your visit. Is that your horse?"
"Yes, it is mine."
"That's the reason why your bátiushka never rides him. It is a very good horse."
"I think he is; I don't know much about them."
"It's a beautiful horse, sir; cost three hundred and fifty rubles," said the coachman.
"How old is he?"
"Six years, sir."
"Let us start, Zakhár; I am all ready. Good by, Mr. Beaumont; will you come to-day?"
"Hardly likely, no; to-morrow, sure."
