“Why are you silent?” I asked again after waiting a moment. “Answer something, can't you?”
“I do not wish to answer you. I hear laughter in your voice, and I do not like derision.”
“He's not laughing at all,” the Count interposed in alarm. “Where did you fish up that notion, Kaetan? He's quite friendly.…”
“Counts and Princes have never spoken to me in such a tone!” Kaetan said, frowning. “I don't like that tone.”
“Consequently, you will not honour me with your conversation?” I continued to worry him as I emptied another glass and laughed.
“Do you know my real reason for coming here?” the Count broke in, desirous of changing the conversation. “I haven't told you as yet? In Petersburg I went to the doctor who has always treated me, to consult him about my health. He auscultated, knocked and pressed me everywhere, and said: ‘You're not a coward!’ Well, you know, though I'm no coward, I grew pale. ‘I'm not a coward,’ I replied.”
“Cut it short, brother.… That's tiresome.”
“He told me I should soon die if I did not go away from Petersburg! My liver is quite diseased from too much drink.… So I decided to come here. It would have been silly to remain there. This estate is so fine—so rich.… The climate alone is worth a fortune!… Here, at least, I can occupy myself with my own affairs. Work is the best, the most efficacious medicine. Kaetan, is that not true? I shall look after the estate and chuck drink.… The doctor did not allow me a single glass … not one!”
“Well, then, don't drink.”
“I don't drink.… To-day is the last time, in honour of meeting you again”—the Count stretched towards me and gave me a smacking kiss on the cheek—“my dear, good friend. To-morrow—not a drop! To-day, Bacchus takes leave of me for ever.… Serezha, let us have a farewell glass of cognac together?”