“Well, you’ve guessed right,” Pyotr Stepanovitch whispered to him mysteriously. “I am going with letters from Yulia Mihailovna and have to call on three or four personages, as you can imagine—bother them all, to speak candidly. It’s a beastly job!”
“But why is she in such a panic? Tell me,” the young man whispered too. “She wouldn’t see even me yesterday. I don’t think she has anything to fear for her husband, quite the contrary; he fell down so creditably at the fire—ready to sacrifice his life, so to speak.”
“Well, there it is,” laughed Pyotr Stepanovitch. “You see, she is afraid that people may have written from here already … that is, some gentlemen.… The fact is, Stavrogin is at the bottom of it, or rather Prince K.… Ech, it’s a long story; I’ll tell you something about it on the journey if you like—as far as my chivalrous feelings will allow me, at least.… This is my relation, Lieutenant Erkel, who lives down here.”
The young man, who had been stealthily glancing at Erkel, touched his hat; Erkel made a bow.
“But I say, Verhovensky, eight hours in the train is an awful ordeal. Berestov, the colonel, an awfully funny fellow, is travelling with me in the first class. He is a neighbour of ours in the country, and his wife is a Garin (née de Garine), and you know he is a very decent fellow. He’s got ideas too. He’s only been here a couple of days. He’s passionately fond of whist; couldn’t we get up a game, eh? I’ve already fixed on a fourth—Pripuhlov, our merchant from T——with a beard, a millionaire—I mean it, a real millionaire; you can take my word for it.… I’ll introduce you; he is a very interesting money-bag. We shall have a laugh.”
“I shall be delighted, and I am awfully fond of cards in the train, but I am going second class.”
“Nonsense, that’s no matter. Get in with us. I’ll tell them directly to move you to the first class. The chief guard would do anything I tell him. What have you got?… a bag? a rug?”
“First-rate. Come along!”
Pyotr Stepanovitch took his bag, his rug, and his book, and at once and with alacrity transferred himself to the first class. Erkel helped him. The third bell rang.
“Well, Erkel.” Hurriedly, and with a preoccupied air, Pyotr Stepanovitch held out his hand from the window for the last time. “You see, I am sitting down to cards with them.”