Falk was beginning to feel afraid without knowing why, and he thought it best to divert the threatening danger. He became civil, humble even, but Levin's boldness still increased. There was no alternative, he must make a speech, remind his companions of the cause of the gathering, acknowledge the hero of the day. There was no other escape. He was a poor speaker, but the thing had to be done. He tapped against the bowl, filled the glasses, and recollecting an old speech, made by his father when Falk became his own master, he rose and began, very slowly:
"Gentlemen! I have been my own master these eight years; I was only thirty years old...."
The change from a sitting position to a standing one caused a rush of blood to his head; he became confused; Levin's mocking glances added to his embarrassment. His confusion grew; the figure thirty seemed something so colossal that it completely disconcerted him.
"Did I say thirty? I didn't—mean it. I was in my father's employ—for many years. It would take too long to recount everything—I suffered during those years; it's the common lot. Perhaps you think me selfish...."
"Hear! hear!" groaned Nyström who was resting his heavy head on the table.
Levin puffed the smoke of his cigar in the direction of the speaker, as if he were spitting in his face.
Falk, really intoxicated now, continued his speech; his eyes seemed to seek a distant goal without being able to find it.
"Everybody is selfish, we all know that. Ye-es! My father, who made a speech when I became my own master, as I was just saying——"
He pulled out his gold watch and took it off the chain. The two listeners opened their eyes wide. Was he going to make a present of it to Levin?
"Handed me on that occasion this gold watch which he, in his turn, had received from his father in the year...."