But at that moment the sound ceased.
"Is it she?"
"It is, it is, it is! But why are you—you worrying about it? It is not your trouble!"
"My dear sir, my dear sir," muttered the gentleman in raccoon, turning pale and gulping, "I am, of course, greatly agitated ... you can see for yourself my abject position; but now it's night, of course, but to-morrow ... though indeed we are not likely to meet to-morrow, though I am not afraid of meeting you—and besides, it is not I, it is my friend on the Voznesensky Bridge, it really is he! It is his wife, it is somebody else's wife. Poor fellow! I assure you, I know him very intimately; if you will allow me I will tell you all about it. I am a great friend of his, as you can see for yourself, or I shouldn't be in such a state about him now—as you see for yourself. Several times I said to him: 'Why are you getting married, dear boy? You have position, you have means, you are highly respected. Why risk it all at the caprice of coquetry? You must see that.' 'No, I am going to be married,' he said; 'domestic bliss.'... Here's domestic bliss for you! In old days he deceived other husbands ... now he is drinking the cup ... you must excuse me, but this explanation was absolutely necessary.... He is an unfortunate man, and is drinking the cup—now!..." At this point the gentleman in raccoon gave such a gulp that he seemed to be sobbing in earnest.
"Ah, damnation take them all! There are plenty of fools. But who are you?"
The young man ground his teeth in anger.
"Well, you must admit after this that I have been gentlemanly and open with you ... and you take such a tone!"
"No, excuse me ... what is your name?"
"Why do you want to know my name?..."
"Ah!"