"Yes, I am in a hurry . . . and I'm unwell too."
He felt a sudden and intense desire to get rid of him; his readiness for some new feeling had vanished in a flash.
"I should have liked . . ."
Pavel Pavlovitch did not say what he would have liked; Velchaninov was silent.
"In that case it must be later on, if only we meet again. . ."
"Yes, yes, later on," Velchaninov muttered rapidly, without stopping or looking at him.
They were both silent again for a minute; Pavel Pavlovitch went on walking beside him.
"In that case, good-bye till we meet again," Pavel Pavlovitch brought out at last.
"Good-bye; I hope. . . ."
Velchaninov returned home thoroughly upset again. Contact with "that man" was too much for him.As he got into bed he asked himself again: "Why was he at the cemetery?"
Next morning he made up his mind to go to the Pogoryeltsevs. He made up his mind to go reluctantly; sympathy from any one, even from the Pogoryeltsevs, was too irksome for him now. But they were so anxious about him that he felt absolutely obliged to go. He suddenly had a foreboding that he would feel horribly ashamed at their first meeting again.
Should he go or not, he thought, as he made haste to finish his breakfast; when, to his intense amazement, Pavel Pavlovitch walked in.
In spite of their meeting the day before Velchaninov could never have conceived that the man would come to see him again, and was so taken aback that he stared at him and did not know what to say. But Pavel Pavlovitch was equal to the occasion. He greeted him, and sat down on the very same chair on which he had sat on his last visit. Velchaninov had a sudden and peculiarly vivid memory of that visit, and gazed uneasily and with repulsion at his visitor.
"You’re surprised?" began Pavel Pavlovitch, interpreting Velchaninov's expression.
He seemed altogether much more free and easy than on the previous day, and at the same time it could be detected that he was more nervous than he had been then. His appearance was particularly curious. M. Trusotsky was not only presentably but quite foppishly dressed—in a light summer jacket, light-coloured trousers of a smart, close-fitting cut, a light waistcoat;
