“But the sign says fresh oysters, you see? It’s a foul-smelling place . . .”
“That’s because you’ve just eaten, but it’s Miliutin’s shop; we won’t eat oysters, I’ll give you champagne . . .”
“I don’t want it! You want to get me drunk.”
“They told you that; they were laughing at you. You believe the scoundrels!”
“No, Trishatov is not a scoundrel. But I myself know how to be careful—that’s what!”
“So you’ve got your own character?”
“Yes, I’ve got character, a bit more than you have, because you’re enslaved to the first comer. You disgraced us, you apologized to the Poles like a lackey. You must have been beaten often in taverns?”
“But we have to have a talk, cghretin!” he cried with that scornful impatience which all but said, “And you’re at it, too?” “What, are you afraid or something? Are you my friend or not?”
“I’m not your friend, and you’re a crook. Let’s go, if only to prove that I’m not afraid of you. Ah, what a foul smell, it smells of cheese! What nastiness!”
Chapter Six
I
I ASK YOU once more to remember that I had a slight ringing in my head; if it hadn’t been for that, I would have talked and acted differently. In the back room of this shop one could actually eat oysters, and we sat down at a little table covered with a foul, dirty cloth. Lambert ordered champagne; a glass of cold, golden-colored wine appeared before me and looked at me temptingly; but I was vexed.
“You see, Lambert, what mainly offends me is that you think you can order me around now, as you used to at Touchard’s, while you yourself are enslaved by everybody here.”
“Cghretin! Eh, let’s clink!”
“You don’t even deign to pretend before me; you might at least conceal that you want to get me drunk.”
“You’re driveling, and you’re drunk. You have to drink more, and you’ll be more cheerful. Take your glass, go on, take it!”
“What’s all this ‘go on, take it’? I’m leaving, and that’s the end of it.”
And I actually made as if to get up. He became terribly angry.
“It’s Trishatov whispering to you against me: I saw the two of you whispering there. You’re a cghretin in that case. Alphonsine is even repulsed when he comes near her . . . He’s vile. I’ll tell you what he’s like.”
“You’ve already said it. All you’ve got is Alphonsine, you’re terribly narrow.”
“Narrow?” He didn’t understand. “They’ve gone over to the pockmarked one now. That’s what! That’s why I threw them out. They’re dishonest. That pockmarked villain will corrupt them, too. But I always demanded that they behave nobly.”
I sat down, took the glass somehow mechanically, and drank a gulp.
“I’m incomparably superior to you in education,” I said. But he was only too glad that I had sat down, and at once poured me more wine.
“So you’re afraid of them?” I went on teasing him (and at that point I was certainly more vile than he was himself ). “Andreev knocked your hat off, and you gave him twenty-five roubles for it.”
“I did, but he’ll pay me back. They’re rebellious, but I’ll tie them into . . .”
“You’re very worried about the pockmarked one. And you know, it seems to me that I’m the only one you’ve got left now. All your hopes are resting on me alone now—eh?”
“Yes, Arkashka, that’s so: you’re my only remaining friend; you put it so well!” he slapped me on the shoulder.
What could be done with such a crude man? He was totally undeveloped and took mockery for praise.
“You could save me from some bad things, if you were a good comrade, Arkady,” he went on, looking at me affectionately.
“In what way could I save you?”
“You know what way. Without me you’re like a cghretin, and you’re sure to be stupid, but I’d give you thirty thousand, and we’d go halves, and you yourself know how. Well, who are you, just look: you’ve got nothing—no name, no family—and here’s a pile all at once; and on such money you know what a career you can start!”
I was simply amazed at such a method. I had decidedly assumed he would dodge, but he began with such directness, such boyish directness, with me. I decided to listen to him out of breadth and . . . out of terrible curiosity.
“You see, Lambert, you won’t understand this, but I agree to listen to you because I’m broad,” I declared firmly and took another sip from the glass. Lambert at once refilled it.
“Here’s the thing, Arkady: if a man like Bjoring dared to heap abuse on me and strike me in front of a lady I adored, I don’t know what I’d do! But you took it, and I find you repulsive, you’re a dishrag!”
“How dare you say Bjoring struck me!” I cried, turning red. “It’s rather I who struck him, and not he me.”
“No, he struck you, not you him.”
“Lies, I also stepped on his foot!”
“But he shoved you with his arm and told the lackeys to drag you away . . . and she sat and watched from the carriage and laughed at you—she knows you have no father and can be insulted.”
