Igumnov shivered and moved away from the river. He suddenly espied not far away his former colleague Kurkov. Smartly dressed, cheerful and self-satisfied, Kurkov was walking slowly and swinging a thin cane with a fancy handle.
“Ah, Grigory Petrovich!” he exclaimed, as though he were glad of the meeting. “Are you strolling, or are you on business?”
“Yes, I’m strolling, that is on business,” said Igumnov.
“I think we are going the same way?”
They walked on together. Kurkov’s cheerful chatter only intensified Igumnov’s mood. Moving his shoulders nervously he addressed Kurkov with sudden resolution: “Nikolai Sergeyevich, do you happen to have a rouble on you?”
“A rouble?” said Kurkov in astonishment. “Why do you want it?”
Igumnov flushed, and began to explain in stammers. “You see, I ... just one rouble is lacking.... I have to get something ... something, you see....”
He breathed heavily in his agitation. He grew silent, and smiled a pitiful, fixed smile.
“That means I shan’t get it back,” thought Kurkov.
And now he spoke no longer in the same careless tone as before.