to you,' she said at last, 'for consenting to devote part of your valuable time to him.. . .'
'It's not so valuable as all that, madam,' answered Solomin; 'and I'm not come to you for very long.'
'Voilà où l'ours a montré sa patte,' she thought in French, but at that instant her husband appeared in the open doorway, with his hat on and his stick in his hand.
Turning half round, he cried with a free and easy air: 'Vassily Fedosyevitch! Ready to start?'
Solomin got up, bowed to Valentina Mihalovna, and walked out behind Sipyagin.
'Follow me, this way, this way, Vassily Fedosyevitch!' Sipyagin called, just as though he were going through a forest and Solomin needed a guide. 'This way! there are steps here, Vassily Fedosyevitch.'
'When you are pleased to call me by my father's name,' Solomin observed deliberately, . . . 'I'm not Fedosyevitch, but Fedotitch.'
Sipyagin looked back at him over his shoulder, almost in affright.
'Ah! I beg your pardon, indeed, Vassily Fedotitch.'
'Not at all; no occasion.'
They went into the courtyard. They happened to meet Kallomyetsev.
43
