dressing-gown and a red smoking cap. "What is it thou wantest, my friend?" he asked. The old man's heart beat fast, tears gushed to his eyes, and he could only utter in a trembling voice: "Your excellency! for God's sake do me the favour!"—Minsky threw a quick glance at him, bridled up, took him by the hand, led him into his study, and closed the door. "Your excellency!" the old man continued, "what is fallen is lost; give me back my poor Dounia. You have trifled sufficiently with her; do not ruin her uselessly." "What is done cannot be undone," said the young man in extreme confusion. "I am guilty before thee and ready to ask thy forgiveness; but do not imagine I can abandon Dounia; she will be happy, I give thee my word for it. What dost thou want her for? She loves me, she is no longer accustomed to her former mode of living. Neither of you will be able to forget the past." Here he slipped something into the old man's sleeve, opened the door, and the station-master found himself in the street, he scarcely knew how.
For a long time he stood motionless; at last he noticed a roll of paper in the cuff of his sleeve; he drew it out, and unrolled several bank-notes of the value of five and ten roubles. Tears came to his eyes again tears of indignation! He crushed the notes, threw them from him, trampled them under-foot, and walked away.—Having proceeded a few paces, he stopped, reflected, and retraced his steps—but no bank-notes were there. A well-dressed young man on seeing him rushed up to a droshky, into which he hastily threw himself and shouted out: "Go on!" The station-master did not follow him. He
