‘Thanks very much, Andrei Petrovitch; but I expect my means would not allow of it.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘My means would not allow of my living in a country house. It’s impossible for me to keep two lodgings.’
‘But of course I’—Bersenyev was beginning, but he stopped short. ‘You would have no extra expense in that way,’ he went on. ‘Your lodging here would remain for you, let us suppose; but then everything there is very cheap; we could even arrange so as to dine, for instance, together.’
Insarov said nothing. Bersenyev began to feel awkward.
‘You might at least pay me a visit sometime,’ he began, after a short pause. ‘A few steps from me there’s a family living with whom I want very much to make you acquainted. If only you knew, Insarov, what a marvellous girl there is there! There is an intimate friend of mine staying there too, a man of great talent; I am sure you would get on with him. [The Russian loves to be hospitable—of his friends if he can offer nothing else.] Really, you must come. And what would be better still, come and stay with me, do. We could work and read together.... I am busy, as you know, with history and philosophy. All that would interest you. I have a lot of books.’
Insarov got up and walked about the room. ‘Let me know,’ he said, ‘how much do you pay for your cottage?’
‘A hundred silver roubles.’
‘And how many rooms are there?’
‘Five.’