not, however, stir a muscle); then, turning to Nezhdanov, he started singing his own praises, with as much zest as the great correspondent, Kislyakov, himself. He said that he had long left the ranks of the benighted, that he knew well the rights of the proletariat (that word, too, he had a firm hold of), that though he had actually given up commerce and taken to banking operations─to increase his capital─that was only that the aforesaid capital might be ready at any moment to serve . . . the good of the common movement, the good, so to speak, of the people; and that he, Golushkin, had in reality the greatest contempt for money! At this point a servant came in with refreshments, and Golushkin cleared his throat expressively, and asked wouldn't he begin with a little glass of something? and set the example by gulping down a wineglass of pepper-brandy.
The visitors partook of the refreshments. Golushkin thrust some huge morsels of caviar in his mouth, and drank with unflagging punctuality, saying, 'Come, gentlemen, a glass of good Macon now.'
Addressing himself again to Nezhdanov, he asked where he had come from, and how long and where he was staying; and learning that he was living at Sipyagin's, he cried: 'I know that gentleman. No good!' and then
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