They began to drink the beer. But it was tedious. The billiard balls could not be found. They wrangled with one another and they cursed the marker. The latter felt guilty and said nothing.
Peredonov detected in this theft a new intrigue, hostile to himself.
"Why?" he thought dejectedly, and could not understand.
He went into the garden, sat down on a bench near the pond—he had never sat there before—and fixed his eyes dully on the weed-clogged water.
Volodin sat down beside him and shared his grief, looking also at the pond with his sheepish eyes.
"Why is there such a dirty mirror here, Pavloushka," said Peredonov, pointing at the pond with his stick.
Volodin smiled and replied:
"It's not a mirror, Ardasha, it's a pond. And as there's no breeze just now the trees are reflected in it as if in a mirror."
Peredonov looked up; a fence on the other side of the pond separated the garden from the street. Peredonov asked:
"Why is the cat on that fence?"