"Oh, very well, very well, don't be cross," the old gentleman responded in a wheedling chant. "I won't talk if you don't care to hear me. You seem a little out of humour this evening."
"But how did you get here?" the young man began.
"Ah, you see, you see! Now you are interested, and before you wouldn't listen!"
"Oh, well, I don't care! Please don't tell me. Oh, damnation take it, what a mess!"
"Don't be cross, young man; I don't know what I am saying. I didn't mean anything; I only meant to say that there must be some good reason for your taking such an interest.... But who are you, young man? I see you are a stranger, but who are you? Oh, dear, I don't know what I am saying!"
"Ugh, leave off, please!" the young man interrupted, as though he were considering something.
"But I will tell you all about it. You think, perhaps, that I will not tell you. That I feel resentment against you. Oh, no! Here is my hand. I am only feeling depressed, nothing more. But for God's sake, first tell me how you came here yourself? Through what chance? As for me, I feel no ill-will; no, indeed, I feel no ill-will, here is my hand. I have made it rather dirty, it is so dusty here; but that's nothing, when the feeling is true."
"Ugh, get away with your hand! There is no room to turn, and he keeps thrusting his hand on me!"
"But, my dear sir, but you treat me, if you will allow me to say so, as though I were an old shoe," said Ivan Andreyitch in a rush of the meekest despair, in a voice full of entreaty. "Treat me a little more civilly, just a little more civilly, and I will tell you all about it! We might be friends; I am quite ready to ask you home to dinner. We can't lie side by side like this, I tell you plainly. You are in error, young man, you do not know...."
"When was it he met her?" the young man muttered, evidently in violent emotion. "Perhaps she is expecting me now.... I'll certainly get away from here!"