"Then don't pinch me so, or I shall scream."
"All right, scream away, try it on."
Ivan Andreyitch flushed with shame. The unknown gentleman was sulky and ill-humoured. Perhaps it was a man who had suffered more than once from the persecutions of fate, and had more than once been in a tight place; but Ivan Andreyitch was a novice and could not breathe in his constricted position. The blood rushed to his head. However, there was no help for it; he had to lie on his face. Ivan Andreyitch submitted and was silent.
"I have been to see Pavel Ivanitch, my love," began the husband. "We sat down to a game of preference. Khee-khee-khee!" (he had a fit of coughing). "Yes ... khee! So my back ... khee! Bother it ... khee-khee-khee!"
And the old gentleman became engrossed in his cough.
"My back," he brought out at last with tears in his eyes, "my spine began to ache.... A damned hæmorrhoid, I can't stand nor sit ... or sit. Akkhee-khee-khee!"...
And it seemed as though the cough that followed was destined to last longer than the old gentleman in possession of it. The old gentleman grumbled something in its intervals, but it was utterly impossible to make out a word.
"Dear sir, for goodness' sake, move a little," whispered the unhappy Ivan Andreyitch.
"How can I? There's no room."
"But you must admit that it is impossible for me. It is the first time that I have found myself in such a nasty position."