What they used to do there, God only knows; but it is a fact that from that time he began to be an entirely different kind of man, and seemed hand in glove with Fedotka. Formerly he used to be stylish, neat in his dress, with his hair slightly curled even; but now it would be only in the morning that he would be any thing like himself; but as soon as he had paid his visit up-stairs, he would not be at all like himself.
Once he came down from up-stairs with the prince, pale, his lips trembling, and talking excitedly.
"I cannot permit such a one as he is," says he, "to say that I am not"—How did he express himself? I cannot recollect, something like "not refined enough," or what,—"and that he won't play with me any more. I tell you I have paid him ten thousand, and I should think that he might be a little more considerate, before others, at least."
"Oh, bother!" says the prince, "is it worth while to lose one's temper with Fedotka?"
"No," says the other, "I will not let it go so."
"Why, old fellow, how can you think of such a thing as lowering yourself to have a row with Fedotka?"
"That is all very well; but there were strangers there, mind you."
"Well, what of that?" says the prince; "strangers? Well, if you wish, I will go and make him ask your pardon."
"No," says the other.
And then they began to chatter in French, and I could not understand what it was they were talking about.