“In Buchynek or not, that is unknown yet.”
Further conversation was interrupted by the sight of Osnovski, who at that moment was coming out of a fruit-shop, with a white package in his hand.
“See, there is Osnovski!” said Svirski.
“How changed!” said Pan Stanislav.
And indeed he was changed immensely. From under his fur cap gazed a pale face, grown yellow, and, as it were, much older. His fur coat seemed to hang on him. Seeing his two friends, he was vexed; it was evident that for a while he hesitated whether or not to go around, pretending that he did not see them. But the sidewalk was empty, and they had come so near that he changed his intention, and, coming up, began to speak with unnatural haste, as if wishing to cover with talk that of which all three were thinking exclusively.
“A good day to you, gentlemen! Oh, this is a chance that we meet, for I am shut up in Prytulov, and come rarely to the city. I have just bought some grapes, for the doctor orders me to eat grapes. But they are imported in sawdust, and have the odor of it; I thought they would be better here. There is frost to-day, indeed. In the country sleighing is perfect.”
And they walked on together, all feeling awkward.
“You are going to Egypt, are you not?” inquired Pan Stanislav at last.
“That is my old plan, and perhaps I shall go. In the country there is nothing to do in winter; it is tedious to be alone there.”