The Eternal Husband and Other Stories

and nothing more!”

“How’s that? an ‘eternal husband’? What does it mean?” Pavel Pavlovich suddenly pricked up his ears.

“Just so, one type of husband… it’s too long a story. You’d better just clear out, your time is up; I’m sick of you!”

“And what’s this about predatory? You said predatory?”

“I said you’re a ‘predatory type’—I said it to mock you.”

“What sort of ‘predatory type,’ sir? Tell me, please, Alexei Ivanovich, for God’s sake, or for Christ’s sake.”

“Well, that’s enough, enough!” Velchaninov cried suddenly, again getting terribly angry. “Your time is up, clear out!”

“No, it’s not enough, sir!” Pavel Pavlovich, too, jumped up. “Even though you’re sick of me, it’s still not enough, because first you and I must have a drink and clink glasses! We’ll have a drink, and then I’ll go, but now it’s not enough!”

“Pavel Pavlovich, can you clear the hell out of here today or not?”

“I can clear the hell out of here, sir, but first we’ll drink! You said you don’t want to drink precisely with me; well, but I want that you drink precisely with me!”

He was no longer clowning, no longer tittering. Everything in him was again as if transformed suddenly and was now so opposite to the whole figure and tone of the just-now Pavel Pavlovich that Velchaninov was decidedly taken aback.

“Eh, let’s drink, Alexei Ivanovich, eh, don’t refuse!” Pavel Pavlovich went on, gripping him firmly by the arm and looking strangely into his face. Obviously, this was not just a matter of drinking.

“Yes, perhaps,” the man muttered, “and where’s… this is swill…”

“Exactly two glasses left, pure swill, sir, but we’ll drink and clink glasses, sir! Here, sir, kindly take your glass.”

They clinked and drank.

“Well, and if so, if so… ah!” Pavel Pavlovich suddenly seized his forehead with his hand and for a few moments remained in that position. Velchaninov imagined that he was now going to up and speak out the very last word. But Pavel Pavlovich did not speak anything out for him; he only looked at him and quietly stretched his mouth again into the same sly and winking smile.

“What do you want from me, you drunk man! You’re fooling with me!” Velchaninov cried frenziedly, stamping his feet.

“Don’t shout, don’t shout, why shout?” Pavel Pavlovich hastily waved his hand. “I’m not fooling with you, I’m not! Do you know what you’ve—this is what you’ve become for me now!”

And he suddenly seized his hand and kissed it. Velchaninov had no time to recover himself.

“This is what you are for me now, sir! And now—to all the devils with me!”

“Wait, stop!” the recovered Velchaninov cried, “I forgot to tell you…”

Pavel Pavlovich turned around at the door.

“You see,” Velchaninov began to mutter extremely quickly, blushing and averting his eyes completely, “you should be at the Pogoreltsevs’ tomorrow without fail… to get acquainted and to thank them—without fail…”

“Without fail, without fail, how could I not understand, sir!” Pavel Pavlovich picked up with extreme readiness, quickly waving his hand as a sign that there was no need to remind him.

“Besides, Liza is also waiting for you very much. I promised…”

“Liza,” Pavel Pavlovich suddenly came back again, “Liza? Do you know, sir, what Liza was for me, was and is, sir? Was and is!” he suddenly cried almost in frenzy. “But… Heh! That’s for later, sir; that’s all for later… and now— it’s no longer enough for me that you and I drank together, Alexei Ivanovich, it’s another satisfaction that’s needed, sir!…”

He put his hat on the chair and, as earlier, slightly breathless, gazed at him.

“Kiss me, Alexei Ivanovich,” he suddenly offered.

“Are you drunk?” the man cried, and drew back.

“I am, sir, but kiss me anyway, Alexei Ivanovich, eh, kiss me! I did kiss your hand just now!”

Alexei Ivanovich was silent for a few moments, as if hit on the head with a club. But suddenly he bent down to Pavel Pavlovich, who came up to his shoulder, and kissed him on the lips, which smelled very strongly of wine. He was not entirely sure, incidentally, that he had kissed him.

“Well, and now, now…” Pavel Pavlovich shouted again in a drunken frenzy, flashing his drunken eyes, “now here’s what, sir: I had thought then—‘not this one, too? If even this one,’ I thought, ‘if even this one, too, then who can one believe after that!’ ”

Pavel Pavlovich suddenly dissolved in tears.

“So do you understand what kind of friend you’ve remained for me now?!”

And he ran out of the room with his hat. Velchaninov again stood for several minutes in the same spot, as after Pavel Pavlovich’s first visit.

“Eh, a drunken buffoon and nothing more!” he waved his hand.

“Decidedly nothing more!” he confirmed energetically when he was already undressed and lying in bed.

VIII

LIZA IS