‘Why, this,’ answered Potugin, and his eyes beamed with such affectionate warmth as Litvinov had not even expected of him, ‘this, that you do not spurn a dead human head, and for your goodness, perhaps you may succeed in leaping over the fatal stone. I won’t keep you any longer, only let me embrace you at parting.’
‘I’m not going to try to leap over it even,’ Litvinov declared, kissing Potugin three times, and the bitter sensations filling his soul were replaced for an instant by pity for the poor lonely creature.
‘But I must go, I must go ...’ he moved about the room.
‘Can I carry anything for you?’ Potugin proffered his services.
‘No, thank you, don’t trouble, I can manage....’
He put on his cap, took up his bag. ‘So you say,’ he queried, stopping in the doorway, ‘you have seen her?’
‘Yes, I’ve seen her.’
‘Well ... tell me about her.’
Potugin was silent a moment. ‘She expected you yesterday ... and to-day she will expect you.’
‘Ah! Well, tell her.... No, there’s no need, no need of anything. Good-bye.... Good-bye!’