“With pleasure—why didn't you say so before! what would you like?”
“Don't say ‘you!’ say ‘we’! we'll drink together of course!” said Pavel Pavlovitch defiantly, but at the same time looking into Velchaninoff's eyes with some concern.
“Shall it be champagne?”
“Of course! it isn't time for vodki yet!”
Velchaninoff rose slowly—rang the bell and gave Mavra the necessary orders.
“We'll drink to this happy meeting of friends after nine years' parting!” said Pavel Pavlovitch, with a very inappropriate and unnecessary giggle. “Why, you are the only real, true friend left to me now! Bagantoff is no more! it quite reminds one of the great poet:
“Great Patroclus is no more,
Mean Thersites liveth yet!”
—and so on,—don't you know!”
At the name “Thersites” Pavel Pavlovitch touched his own breast.