married, Alexey Ivanovitch," Pavel Pavlovitch went on confidentially and almost touchingly, "or what will become of me? You see for yourself!" He pointed to the bottle. "And that's only one-hundredth of my vices. I can't get on at all without marriage and—without new faith; 1 shall have faith and shall rise up again."
"But why on earth do you tell me this?" Velchaninov asked, almost bursting with laughter. It all struck him as wild, "But tell me," he cried, "what was your object in dragging me out there? What did you want me there for?"
"As a test . . ." Pavel Pavlovitch seemed suddenly embarrassed.
"A test of what?"
"The effect. . . . You see, Alexey Ivanovitch, it's only a week altogether . . . I've been looking round there" (Pavel Pavlovitch grew more and more confused). "Yesterday I met you and thought: 'I've never yet seen her in outside, so to say, society, that is, in men's, except my own. . . .' A stupid idea; I feel that myself now; unnecessary. I expected too much . . . it's my horrible character. . . ."
He suddenly raised his head and flushed crimson.
"Can he be telling the whole truth?" Velchaninov was petrified with surprise.
"Well, and what then?" he asked.
Pavel Pavlovitch gave a sugary and, as it were, crafty smile.
"It's only charming childishness! It's all those girl friends! Only forgive me for my stupid behaviour before you to-day, Alexey Ivanovitch; I never will again; and indeed it will never happen again."
"And I shan't be there again," said Velchaninov, with a smile.
"That's partly what I mean."
Velchaninov felt a little piqued.
"But I'm not the only man in the world, you know," he observed irritably.
Pavel Pavlovitch flushed again.
"It's sad for me to hear that, Alexey Ivanovitch, and, believe me, I've such a respect for Nadyezhda Fedosyevna . . ."
"Excuse me, excuse me, I didn't mean anything; it only seems a little strange to me that you have such an exaggerated idea of my attractions . . . and . . . such genuine confidence in me."
