“But what are you cursing for?” grumbled Petrov, without raising his eyes. “I’m not cursing you, am I? Then why do you curse first? I have a full right to act as I want to. But I have passed some time with you, and so take them. But to be forced, I don’t want to. And on your part, Gladishev—that is, Soliterov—this isn’t at all nice. I thought she was a nice girl, but she’s trying to kiss all the time, and does God knows what...”
Tamara, despite her wrath, burst into laughter.
“Oh, you little stupid, little stupid! Well, don’t be angry—I’ll take your money. Only watch: this very evening you’ll be sorry, you’ll be crying. Well, don’t be angry, don’t be angry, angel, let’s make up. Put your hand out to me, as I’m doing to you.”
“Let’s go, Kerkovius,” said Gladishev. “Au revoir, Tamara!”
Tamara let the money down into her stocking, through the habit of all prostitutes, and went to show the boys the way.
Even at the time that they were passing through the corridor Gladishev was struck by the strange, silent, tense bustle in the drawing room; the trampling of feet and some muffled, low-voiced, rapid conversations.
Near that place where they had just been sitting below the picture, all the inmates of Anna Markovna’s house and several outsiders had gathered. They were standing in a close knot, bending down. Kolya walked up with curiosity, and, wedging his way through a little, looked in between the heads: on the floor, sideways, somehow unnaturally drawn up, was lying Roly-Poly. His face was blue, almost black. He did not move, and was lying strangely small, shrunken, with legs bent. One arm was squeezed in under his breast, while the other was flung back.
“What’s the matter with him?” asked Gladishev in a fright.
Niurka answered him, starting to speak in a rapid, jerky whisper:
“Roly-Poly just came here...Gave Manka the candy, and then started in to put Armenian riddles to us...’Of a blue colour, hangs in the parlor and whistles’...We couldn’t guess nohow, but he says: ‘A herring’...Suddenly he started laughing, had a coughing spell, and began falling sideways; and then—bang on the ground and don’t move...They sent for the police...Lord, there’s doings for you! ... I’m horribly afraid of corpseses!”