“I’ll just have a liqueur.... Have you any chocolates?”
“Yes, there’s a heap of them on the table there. Choose one, my dear soul!”
“I like one with vanilla ... for old people. He he!”
“No, brother, we’ve none of that special sort.”
“I say,” the old man bent down to whisper in Mitya’s ear. “That girl there, little Marya, he he! How would it be if you were to help me make friends with her?”
“So that’s what you’re after! No, brother, that won’t do!”
“I’d do no harm to any one,” Maximov muttered disconsolately.
“Oh, all right, all right. They only come here to dance and sing, you know, brother. But damn it all, wait a bit!... Eat and drink and be merry, meanwhile. Don’t you want money?”
“Later on, perhaps,” smiled Maximov.
“All right, all right....”