“Don’t trouble; I’ll get in at the window. . . .”
Laevsky climbed in at the window, and when he reached Samoylenko, seized him by the hand.
“Alexandr Daviditch,” he said in a shaking voice, “save me! I beseech you, I implore you. Understand me! My position is agonising. If it goes on for another two days I shall strangle myself like . . . like a dog.”
“Wait a bit. . . . What are you talking about exactly?”
“Light a candle.”
“Oh . . . oh! . . .” sighed Samoylenko, lighting a candle. “My God! My God! . . . Why, it’s past one, brother.”
“Excuse me, but I can’t stay at home,” said Laevsky, feeling great comfort from the light and the presence of Samoylenko. “You are my best, my only friend, Alexandr Daviditch. . . . You are my only hope. For God’s sake, come to my rescue, whether you want to or not. I must get away from here, come what may! . . . Lend me the money!”
“Oh, my God, my God! . . .” sighed Samoylenko, scratching himself. “I was dropping asleep and I hear the whistle of the steamer, and now you . . . Do you want much?”
“Three hundred roubles at least. I must leave her a hundred, and I need two hundred for the journey. . . . I owe you about four hundred already, but I will send it you all . . . all. . . .”
Samoylenko took hold of both his whiskers in one hand, and standing with his legs wide apart, pondered.