“Serezha, you're always joking,” the Count said, somewhat offended, “and you never give me any friendly advice! Everything is laughable for you! My friend, it is about time to drop these student habits!”
The Count began to pace about the room from corner to corner, and to explain to me in long and tiresome suppositions the benefits that his evening parties might bring to humanity. Music, literature, the drama, riding, shooting. The shooting alone might unite all the best forces of the district!…
“We shall revert to the subject,” the Count said to Kalinin in taking leave of him after lunch.
“Then, if I understand your Excellency, the district may hope?” the Justice of the Peace inquired.
“Certainly, certainly.… I will develop this idea and see what I can do.… I am happy … delighted. You can tell everybody.…”
It was a sight to note the look of beatitude that was imprinted on the face of the Justice of the Peace as he took his seat in his carriage and said to the coachman: “Go!” He was so delighted that he even forgot our differences and in taking leave he called me “golubchek” and pressed my hand warmly.
After the visitors had left, the Count and I sat down to table again and continued our lunch. We lunched till seven o'clock in the evening, when the crockery was removed from the table and dinner was served. Young drunkards know how to shorten the time between meals. The whole time we drank and ate small pieces, by which means we sustained the appetite which would have failed us if we had entirely ceased to eat.
“Did you send money to anybody to-day?” I asked the Count, remembering the packets of hundred-rouble notes I had seen in the morning in the Tenevo post office.
“I sent no money.”
“Tell me, please, is your—what's his name?—new friend, Kazimir Kaetanych, or Kaetan Kazimirovich, a wealthy man?”