'Well, so, if it's seven roubles each,' Trudolyubov said, 'that makes twenty-one for the three of us - we can have a nice dinner. Zverkov doesn't pay, of course.'
'Naturally not, since we're inviting him,' Simonov decided.
'Do you really think,' Ferfichkin broke in presumptuously and fervently, like an impudent lackey boasting of his master's, the general's, decorations, 'do you really think Zverkov will let us pay for it all? He'll accept out of delicacy, but he'll stand us to a half-dozen himself.'
'And what are the four of us going to do with a half-dozen,' Trudolyubov remarked, having paid attention only to the half-dozen.
'So, it's the three of us, four with Zverkov, twenty-one roubles, the Hotel de Paris, tomorrow at five o'clock,' Simonov, who had been elected manager, finally concluded.
'Why twenty-one?' I said, somewhat agitated, apparently even offended. 'If you count me, it's twenty-eight roubles, not twenty-one.'
It seemed to me that to offer myself suddenly and so unexpectedly would even be a most handsome thing, and they would all be won over at once and look upon me with respect.
'You want to come, too?' Simonov remarked with displeasure, somehow avoiding my eyes. He knew me by heart.
It infuriated me that he knew me by heart.
'What of it, sir? I would seem to be a schoolfellow, too, and I confess I'm even offended at being left out,' I began seething again.
'And where does one go looking for you?' Ferfichkin rudely butted in.
'You were never on good terms with Zverkov,' Trudolyubov added, frowning. But once I had fastened on, I would not let go.
'It seems to me that no one has any right to judge about that,' I retorted, in a trembling voice, as if God knows what had happened. 'Maybe that's precisely why I want to now, because we weren't on good terms before.'
'Well, who can understand you… and these sublimities…' Trudolyubov smirked.
'You'll be put on the list,' Simonov decided, turning to me. 'Tomorrow, five o'clock, the Hotel de Paris; make no mistake.'
'And the money!' Ferfichkin tried to begin, in a half-whisper, nodding towards me to Simonov, but he stopped short, because even Simonov became embarrassed.
'Enough,' said Trudolyubov, rising. 'Let him come, if he wants to so much.'
'But we have our own circle, we're friends,' Ferfichkin, angry, was also reaching for his hat. 'This isn't an official meeting. Maybe we don't want you at all…'
They left; Ferfichkin did not even bow to me as he went out; Trudolyubov barely nodded, without looking. Simonov, with whom I was left face to face, was in some sort of annoyed perplexity and gave me a strange glance. He did not sit down, nor did he invite me to sit down.
'Hm… yes… tomorrow, then. And will you give me the money now? Just to know for certain,' he muttered in embarrassment.
I flushed, but as I flushed I recalled that I had owed Simonov fifteen roubles from time immemorial, which, however, I had never forgotten, though I also had never repaid it.
'You must see, Simonov, that I couldn't have known on coming here… and I'm very annoyed with myself for forgetting…'
'All right, all right, never mind. You can pay tomorrow at dinner. I just wanted to know… Please don't…'
He stopped short and began pacing the room with even greater annoyance. As he paced, he started planting his heels and stomping still more heavily.
'I'm not keeping you, am I?' I asked, after a two-minute silence.
'Oh, no!' he suddenly roused himself, 'that is, to tell the truth - yes. You see, I've also got to stop by at… Not far from here…' he added, in a sort of apologetic voice, and somewhat ashamedly.
'Ah, my God! Why didn't you say so!' I exclaimed, grabbing my cap, but with an appearance of remarkable nonchalance, which flew down to me from God knows where.
'It's not far, really…Just a couple of steps…' Simonov kept saying as he saw me to the entryway with a bustling air that did not become him at all. 'Tomorrow, then, at five o'clock sharp!' he called out as I went down the stairs: he was so pleased I was leaving. I, however, was furious.
'What possessed me, what possessed me to pop up like that!' I gnashed my teeth, striding along the street. 'And for that scoundrel, that little pig of a Zverkov! I mustn't go, of course; just spit on it, of course; I'm not bound, am I? Tomorrow I'll send Simonov a note…'
But what made me furious was that I knew I would certainly go; I would go on purpose; and the more tactless, the more improper it was for me to go, the sooner I would go.
And there was even a positive obstacle to my going: I had no money. All I had lying there was nine roubles. But of that, seven had to go the next day for the wages of Apollon, my servant, who lived with me for seven roubles a month, grub not included.
And not to pay him his wages was impossible, given Apollon's character. But of this dog, this thorn in my side, I will speak some other time.
Nevertheless, I knew that even so I would not pay him, but would certainly go.
That night I had the most hideous dreams. No wonder: all evening I was oppressed by recollections of the penal servitude of my school years, and I could not get rid of them. I had been tucked away in that school by distant relations whose dependent I was and of whom I had no notion thereafter - tucked away, orphaned, already beaten
