“Sehr gut! sehr gut!” muttered the literary man, and shuffled off.
Maria Nikolaevna’s footman, waiting for her in the entrance, found her carriage in no time. She quickly took her seat in it; Sanin leapt in after her. The doors were slammed to, and Maria Nikolaevna exploded in a burst of laughter.
“What are you laughing at?” Sanin inquired.
“Oh, excuse me, please … but it struck me: what if Dönhof were to have another duel with you … on my account…. wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
“Are you very great friends with him?” Sanin asked.
“With him? that boy? He’s one of my followers. You needn’t trouble yourself about him!”
“Oh, I’m not troubling myself at all.”
Maria Nikolaevna sighed. “Ah, I know you’re not. But listen, do you know what, you’re such a darling, you mustn’t refuse me one last request. Remember in three days’ time I am going to Paris, and you are returning to Frankfort…. Shall we ever meet again?”
“What is this request?”
“You can ride, of course?”