Vasya opened his eyes and jumped up from his chair.
"Oh!" he cried, "I must have fallen asleep...."
He flew to the papers—everything was right; all were in order; there was not a blot of ink, nor spot of grease from the candle on them.
"I think I must have fallen asleep about six o'clock," said Vasya. "How cold it is in the night! Let us have tea, and I will go on again...."
"Do you feel better?"
"Yes, yes, I'm all right, I'm all right now."
"A happy New Year to you, brother Vasya."
"And to you too, brother, the same to you, dear boy."
They embraced each other. Vasya's chin was quivering and his eyes were moist. Arkady Ivanovitch was silent, he felt sad. They drank their tea hastily.
"Arkady, I've made up my mind, I am going myself to Yulian Mastakovitch."