'Where are you off to?' he inquired, looking askance at Solomin; 'to the factory? C'est là l'individu en question?'
Sipyagin opened his eyes wide and slightly shook his head by way of warning.
'Yes, to the factory . . . to show my sins and transgressions to this gentleman—the mechanician. Let me introduce you: Mr. Kallomyetsev, our neighbour here; Mr. Solomin.. . .'
Kallomyetsev nodded his head twice, hardly perceptibly, not at all in Solomin's direction, without looking at him. But he looked at Kallomyetsev, and there was a gleam of something in his half-closed eyes.
'May I join you?' asked Kallomyetsev. 'You know I like instruction.'
'Of course you may.'
They went out of the courtyard into the road, and had not gone twenty steps when they saw the parish priest in a cassock, hitched up into the belt, making his way home to the so-called 'pope's quarter.' Kallomyetsev promptly left his two companions, and with long, resolute strides approached the priest, who was not at all expecting this and was rather disconcerted, asked his blessing, deposited a sounding kiss on his moist red hand, and, turning to Solomin, flung him a challenging glance. He obviously
44
