* * * * *
The spring evening darkens quickly, and it is already night. Through the window comes the whistling of the steamers on the Dnieper, and with it creeps a faint smell of hay, dust, lilac and warm stone. The water falls into the washstand, dripping regularly. There is another knock.
‘Who’s there? What the devil are you prowling about for?’ cries Anna Friedrichovna awakened. She jumps barefoot from the bed and angrily opens the door. ‘Well, what do you want?’
Lieutenant Tchijhevich modestly pulls the blanket over his head.
‘A student wants a room,’ Arseny says behind the door in a stage whisper.
‘What student? Tell him there’s only one room, and that’s two roubles. Is he alone, or with a woman?’
‘Alone.’
‘Tell him then: passport and money in advance. I know these students.’
The lieutenant dressed hurriedly. From habit he takes ten seconds over his toilette. Anna Friedrichovna tidies the bed quickly and cleverly. Arseny returns.
‘He’s paid in advance,’ he said gloomily. ‘And here’s the passport.’