Thank you.
Mavriky Nikolaevitch, are you ready?"
They went away.
I ran at once, of course, to Shatov.
"Mon ami!" said Stepan Trofimovitch, overtaking me on the steps. "Be sure to be at my lodging at ten or eleven o'clock when I come back.
Oh, I've acted very wrongly in my conduct to you and to every one."
VIII
I did not find Shatov at home. I ran round again, two hours later. He was still out.
At last, at eight o'clock I went to him again, meaning to leave a note if I did not find him; again I failed to find him.
His lodging was shut up, and he lived alone without a servant of any sort.
I did think of knocking at Captain Lebyadkin's down below to ask about Shatov; but it was all shut up below, too, and there was no sound or light as though the place were empty.
I passed by Lebyadkin's door with curiosity, remembering the stories I had heard that day.
Finally, I made up my mind to come very early next morning.
To tell the truth I did not put much confidence in the effect of a note. Shatov might take no notice of it; he was so obstinate and shy.
Cursing my want of success, I was going out of the gate when all at once I stumbled on Mr. Kirillov. He was going into the house and he recognised me first.
As he began questioning me of himself, I told him how things were, and that I had a note.
"Let us go in," said he, "I will do everything."
I remembered that Liputin had told us he had taken the wooden lodge in the yard that morning.
In the lodge, which was too large for him, a deaf old woman who waited upon him was living too.
The owner of the house had moved into a new house in another street, where he kept a restaurant, and this old woman, a relation of his, I believe, was left behind to look after everything in the old house.
The rooms in the lodge were fairly clean, though the wall-papers were dirty.
In the one we went into the furniture was of different sorts, picked up here and there, and all utterly worthless. There were two card-tables, a chest of drawers made of elder, a big deal table that must have come from some peasant hut or kitchen, chairs and a sofa with trellis-work back and hard leather cushions.
In one corner there was an old-fashioned ikon, in front of which the old woman had lighted a lamp before we came in, and on the walls hung two dingy oil-paintings, one, a portrait of the Tsar Nikolas I, painted apparently between 1820 and 1830; the other the portrait of some bishop.
Mr. Kirillov lighted a candle and took out of his trunk, which stood not yet unpacked in a corner, an envelope, sealing-wax, and a glass seal.
"Seal your note and address the envelope."
I would have objected that this was unnecessary, but he insisted.
When I had addressed the envelope I took my cap.
"I was thinking you'd have tea," he said. "I have bought tea.
Will you?"
I could not refuse.
The old woman soon brought in the tea, that is, a very large tea-pot of boiling water, a little tea-pot full of strong tea, two large earthenware cups, coarsely decorated, a fancy loaf, and a whole deep saucer of lump sugar.
"I love tea at night," said he. "I walk much and drink it till daybreak.
Abroad tea at night is inconvenient."
"You go to bed at daybreak?"
"Always; for a long while.
I eat little; always tea.
Liputin's sly, but impatient."
I was surprised at his wanting to talk; I made up my mind to take advantage of the opportunity.
"There were unpleasant misunderstandings this morning," I observed.
He scowled.
"That's foolishness; that's great nonsense.
All this is nonsense because Lebyadkin is drunk.
I did not tell Liputin, but only explained the nonsense, because he got it all wrong.
Liputin has a great deal of fantasy, he built up a mountain out of nonsense.
I trusted Liputin yesterday."
"And me to-day?" I said, laughing.
"But you see, you knew all about it already this morning; Liputin is weak or impatient, or malicious or... he's envious."
The last word struck me.
"You've mentioned so many adjectives, however, that it would be strange if one didn't describe him."
"Or all at once."