“Then, look here. To-night, at the races—will you be there?”
“No, I shall not be there.”
“Do come. I have none of my own now, but I back Grisha’s horses. You remember; he has a fine stud. You’ll come, won’t you? And we’ll have some supper together.”
“No, I cannot have supper with you either,” said Nekhludoff with a smile.
“Well, that’s too bad! And where are you off to now? Shall I give you a lift?”
“I am going to see an advocate, close to here round the corner.”
“Oh, yes, of course. You have got something to do with the prisons—have turned into a prisoners’ mediator, I hear,” said Schonbock, laughing. “The Korchagins told me. They have left town already. What does it all mean? Tell me.”
“Yes, yes, it is quite true,” Nekhludoff answered; “but I cannot tell you about it in the street.”
“Of course; you always were a crank. But you will come to the races?”
“No. I neither can nor wish to come. Please do not be angry with me.”