everything before you as if at confession. Trust me, Alexei Ivanovich!”
But Velchaninov still kept refusing, and the more stubbornly as he felt in himself a certain heavy, spiteful thought. This wicked thought had already long been stirring in him, from the very beginning, when Pavel Pavlovich had only just announced about his fiancee: whether from simple curiosity, or some still entirely vague inclination, he felt drawn—to agree. And the more drawn he was, the more he defended himself. He was sitting, leaning on his hand, and reflecting. Pavel Pavlovich fussed about and implored him.
“All right, I’ll go,” he suddenly agreed uneasily and almost anxiously, getting up from his place. Pavel Pavlovich was boundlessly overjoyed.
“No, Alexei Ivanovich, you get yourself dressed up now,” he fussed joyfully around Velchaninov, who was getting dressed, “nicely, the way you know how.”
“Strange man,” Velchaninov thought to himself, “why is he letting himself in for it?”
“And this is not the only favor I expect from you, Alexei Ivanovich, sir. Since you’ve given your consent, also be my guide, sir.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning that there’s a big question, sir: about the crape, sir? What’s more appropriate: to take it off, or to keep the crape?”
“As you like.”
“No, I want your decision—that is, if you were wearing crape, sir? My own thought was that if I keep it, it will point to a constancy of feelings, sir, and so will be a flattering recommendation.”
“Take it off, naturally.”
“Naturally, you say?” Pavel Pavlovich pondered. “No, I’d rather keep it, sir…”
“As you like.”—“Anyhow he doesn’t trust me, that’s good,” thought Velchaninov.
They went out; Pavel Pavlovich contemplated the dressed-up Velchaninov with satisfaction; it even seemed as if more respect and importance showed in his face. Velchaninov marveled at him and still more at himself. By the gate an excellent carriage stood waiting for them.
“And you’ve got a carriage all ready? So you were sure I’d go?”
“I hired the carriage for myself, sir, but I was almost certain you’d agree to go,” Pavel Pavlovich responded with the look of a perfectly happy man.
“Eh, Pavel Pavlovich,” Velchaninov laughed somehow vexedly when they were already settled and starting out, “aren’t you a bit too sure of me?”
“But it’s not for you, Alexei Ivanovich, it’s not for you to tell me I’m a fool on account of that?” Pavel Pavlovich replied in a firm and soulful voice.
“And Liza?” thought Velchaninov, and at once dropped the thought, as if fearing some blasphemy. And suddenly he seemed so paltry to himself, so insignificant at that moment; the thought that was tempting him seemed such a small, such a nasty little thought… and he wanted at all costs to drop everything again and get out of the carriage right then, even if he had to beat Pavel Pavlovich because of it. But the man started to speak and the temptation again gripped his heart.
“Alexei Ivanovich, do you know how to judge precious stones, sir?”
“What precious stones?”
“Diamonds, sir.”
“I do.”
“I’d like to bring a little present. Guide me: should I do it, or not?”
“In my opinion, you shouldn’t.”
“But I’d very much like to, sir,” Pavel Pavlovich squirmed, “only what should I buy, sir? A whole set—that is, brooch, earrings, and bracelet—or just one thing?”
“How much do you want to spend?”
“Oh, some four or five hundred roubles, sir.”
“Oof!”
“Is it too much?” Pavel Pavlovich roused himself.
“Buy just a bracelet, for a hundred roubles.”
Pavel Pavlovich was even upset. He wanted terribly to spend more and buy the “whole” set. He insisted. They stopped at a store. It ended, however, with their buying only a bracelet, and not the one Pavel Pavlovich wanted, but one pointed out by Velchaninov. Pavel Pavlovich wanted to take both. When the shopkeeper, after asking a hundred and seventy-five roubles for the bracelet, went down to a hundred and fifty—he was even vexed; it would have been a pleasure for him to spend two hundred, had he been asked to, so much did he want to spend more.
“Never mind my being in such a hurry with presents,” he poured himself out in rapture as they drove on, “it’s not high society, it’s simple there, sir. Innocence likes little presents,” he smiled slyly and merrily. “You grinned just now, Alexei Ivanovich, at the mention of fifteen years; but that was just what hit me on the head—precisely that she still goes to school, with a little book bag in her hand, with notebooks and little pens, heh, heh! It was the little book bag that captivated my thoughts! In fact, it’s for that innocence, Alexei Ivanovich. For me it’s not so much a matter of the beauty of her face, but that innocence, sir. She giggles there in a corner with a girlfriend, and how they laugh, and my God! And over what, sir: all that laughter is because the kitty jumped from the chest onto the bed and curled up… It really smells of fresh apples there, sir! Shouldn’t I take the crape off?”
“As you like.”
