“It's time to go to bed,” I said, looking at my watch. “I'm off!… Olga Nikolaevna, will you permit me to escort you?”
Olga looked at me and then at the Count.
“Where am I to go?” she murmured. “I can't go to him!”
“Yes, yes; of course, you can't go to him,” the Count said. “Who can answer for his not beating you again? No, no!”
I walked about the room. All was quiet. I paced from corner to corner and my friend and my mistress followed my steps with their eyes. I seemed to understand this quiet and these glances. There was something expectant and impatient in them. I put my hat on the table and sat down on the sofa.
“So, sir,” the Count mumbled and rubbed his hands impatiently. “So, sir.… Things are like this.…”
The clock struck half-past one. The Count looked quickly at the clock, frowned and began to walk about the room. I could see by the glances he cast on me that he wanted to say something, something important but ticklish and unpleasant.
“I say, Serezha!” he at last picked up courage, sat down next to me, and whispered in my ear. “Golubchek, don't be offended.… Of course, you will understand my position, and you won't find my request strange or rude.”
“Tell me quickly. No need to mince matters!”
“You see how things stand … how … Go away, golubchek! You are interfering with us.… She will remain with me.… Forgive me for sending you away, but … you will understand my impatience!”