Tarantiev hastened to cram the note into his pocket.
“Likewise, do you feel like hiring a conveyance and going to the Ekaterinhov today?” he inquired. “If so, you might take me with you.”
Oblomov shook his head.
“I have met with two misfortunes,” he remarked. “In the first place, I am to be turned out of this fiat.”
“Because you haven’t paid your rent, I suppose?”
“No, that is not the reason. I always pay in advance. Tell me what had better be done.”
“Who made me your adviser? Do you think I give advice for nothing? Ask him, rather”—and Tarantiev pointed to Alexiev—“or else that kinsman of his.”
“No, no. Tell me what I ought to do.”
“I should advise you to move to another flat.”
“I could have said that myself.”