"Yes, really that's the best thing to do!" the old man approved aloud.
Eager volunteers were already at him; Marie Nikititchna and the red-haired girl (who had also been invited to dinner), and, finally, the mamma herself, greatly alarmed; every one wanted to slap Pavel Pavlovitch on the back. Jumping up from the table, Pavel Pavlovitch wriggled away and was for a full minute asseverating that he had swallowed his wine too quickly and that the cough would soon be over, while the others realized that it was all a trick of Marie Nikititchna's.
"But, really, you tease . . . !" Madame Zahlebimn tried to say sternly to Marie Nikititchna; but she broke down and laughed as she very rarely did, and that made quite a sensation of a sort.
After dinner they all went out on the verandah to drink coffee.
"And what lovely days we're having!" said the old man, looking with pleasure into the garden, and serenely admiring the beauties of nature. "If only we could have some rain. Enjoy yourselves and God bless you! And you enjoy yourself too," he added, patting Pavel Pavlovitch on the shoulder as he went out.
When they had all gone out into the garden again, Pavel Pavlovitch suddenly ran up to Velchaninov and pulled him by the sleeve.
"Just one minute," he whispered impatiently.
They turned into a lonely side path.
"No, in this case, excuse me, no, I won't give up . . ." he stuttered in a furious whisper, clutching Velchaninov’s arm.
"What? what?" Velchaninov asked, opening his eyes in amazement.
Pavel Pavlovitch stared at him mutely, his lips moved, and he smiled furiously.
"Where are you going? Where are you? Everything's ready," they heard the ringing, impatient voices of the girls.
Velchaninov shrugged his shoulders and returned to the rest of the party.
Pavel Pavlovitch, too, ran after him.
"I'll bet he asked you for a handkerchief," said Marie Nikititchna; "he forgot one last time too."
"He'll always forget it!" the fifth Zahlebinin girl put in.
"He's forgotten his handkerchief, Pavel Pavlovitch has forgotten his handkerchief, mamma, Pavel Pavlovitch has forgotten
