“Then, Serezha, it's peace? Excellent! That ought to have been long ago; the deuce only knows what you quarrelled about! Like two schoolgirls! Oh, by-the-by, golubchek, haven't you got half a glass of vodka? My throat is terribly dry!”
I ordered vodka to be served. The Count drank two glasses, sprawled himself out on the sofa, and began to chatter.
“I say, brother, I just met Olia.… A fine girl! I must tell you, I'm beginning to detest Urbenin.… That means that Olenka is beginning to please me.… She's devilish pretty! I think of making up to her.”
“One ought not to touch the married ones!” I said with a sigh.
“Come now, he's an old man.… It's no sin to juggle Pëtr Egorych out of his wife.… She's no mate for him.… He's like a dog; he can't eat it himself, and won't let others have it.… I'm going to begin my siege to-day; I'll begin systematically.… She's such a ducky—h'm!—quite chic, brother! One licks one's chops!”
The Count drank a third glass and continued:
“Of the girls here, do you know who pleases me too? Nadenka, that fool Kalinin's daughter.… A burning brunette, you know the sort, pale, with wonderful eyes.… I must also cast my line there.… I'm giving a party at Whitsuntide, a musical, vocal, literary evening on purpose to invite her.… As it turns out, it's not so bad here; quite jolly! There's society, and women … and.… May I have five winks here … only a moment?”
“You may.… But how about Pshekhotsky in the carriage?”
“He may wait, the devil take him!… Brother, I myself don't like him.”
The Count raised himself on his elbow and said mysteriously: