So, then, they made a punch, and began to drink. Véretyeff was sitting in the most conspicuous place. Jolly and profligate, he held the pre-eminence in gatherings of young men. He threw off his waistcoat and neckcloth. He was asked to sing; he took a guitar and sang several songs. Heads began to wax rather hot; the young men began to propose toasts. Suddenly Steltchínsky, all red in the face, sprang upon the table, and elevating his glass high above his head, exclaimed loudly:
“To the health ... of I know whom,”—he hastily caught himself up, drank off his liquor, and smashed his glass on the floor, adding:—“May my foe be shivered into just such pieces to-morrow!”
Véretyeff, who had long had his eye on him, swiftly raised his head....
“Steltchínsky,”—said he,—“in the first place, get off the table; that’s indecorous, and you have very bad boots into the bargain; and, in the second place, come hither, I will tell thee something.”
He led him aside.
“Hearken, brother; I know that thou art going to fight to-morrow with that gentleman from Petersburg.”
Steltchínsky started.
“How ... who told thee?”
“I tell thee it is so. And I also know on whose account thou art going to fight.”
“Who is it? I am curious to know.”