left eye, disappeared. Every moment he grew more uneasy and disconsolate; at last he could not contain himself.
"Listen," he began timidly in an undertone.
"Listen, Varvara Alexyevna . . . do you know what, Varvara Alexyevna . . . ?" The old man was in terrible confusion. "When the day of his birthday comes, you know, you take ten books and give them yourself, that is from your- self, on your own account; I'll take only the eleventh, and I, too, will give it from myself, that is, apart, on my own account. So then, do you see—you will have something to give, and I shall have something to give; we shall both have something to give."
At this point the old man was overcome with confusion and relapsed into silence. I glanced at him; he was waiting for my verdict with timid expectation.
"But why do you want us not to give them together, Zahar Petrovitch?
"Why, you see, Varvara Alexyevna, it's just . . . it's only, you know . . ."
In short, the old man faltered, flushed, got stuck in his sentence and could not proceed.
"You see, he explained at last, "Varvara Alexyevna, I indulge at times . . . that is, I want to tell you that I am almost always indulging, constantly indulging . . . I have a habit which is very bad . . . that is, you know, it's apt to be so cold outdoors and at times there are unpleasantnesses of all sorts, or something makes one sad, or something happens amiss and then I give way at once and begin to indulge and sometimes drink too much. Petrusha dislikes that very much. He gets angry with me, do you see, Varvara Alexyevna, scolds me and gives me lectures, so that I should have liked now to show him by my present that I am reforming and beginning to behave properly, that here I've saved up to buy the book, saved up for ever so long, for I scarcely ever have any money except it may happen Petrusha gives me something. He knows that. So here he will see how I have used my money and will know that I have done all that only for him.
I felt dreadfully sorry for the old man. I thought for a moment. The old man looked at me uneasily.
"Listen, Zahar Petrovitch," I said; "you give him them all."
"How all? Do you mean all the books?"
"Why, yes, all the books."
