Varvara disliked giving him any of her rouge, but she had to yield—and Peredonov coloured his cheeks. He muttered:
"Veriga himself paints so as to look younger. You don't expect me to get married with white cheeks."
Then, shutting himself in his bedroom, he decided to mark himself, so that Volodin could not change places with him. On his chest, on his stomach, on his forearms and in various other places he marked in ink the letter "P".
"Volodin ought to be marked too. But how can he be? He would see it and rub it off," thought Peredonov dejectedly.
Then a new thought came into his mind—to put on a pair of corsets so that he should not be taken for an old man if he happened to bend over. He asked Varvara for a pair of corsets, but Varvara's corsets proved to be too tight—they would not come together.
"They ought to have been bought earlier," he said savagely. "You never think of anything in time."
"What man wears corsets?" said Varvara. "No one does."
"Veriga does," said Peredonov.
"Yes, Veriga is an old man, but you, Ardalyon Borisitch, thank God, are in your prime."
Peredonov smiled with self-satisfaction, looked in the mirror and said: