As soon as they got outside they ran against Kollomietzev.
“Where are you off to?” the latter asked, looking askance at Solomin. “Are you going to the factory? C’est là l’individu en question?”
Sipiagin opened his eyes wide and shook his head slightly by way of warning.
“Yes, we’re going to the factory. I want to show all my sins and transgressions to this gentleman, who is an engineer. Allow me to introduce you. Mr. Kollomietzev, a neighbouring landowner, Mr. Solomin.”
Kollomietzev nodded his head twice in an off-hand manner without looking at Solomin, but the latter looked at him and there was a sinister gleam in his half-closed eyes.
“May I come with you?” Kollomietzev asked. “You know I’m always ready to learn.”
“Certainly, if you like.”
They went out of the courtyard into the road and had scarcely taken twenty steps when they ran across a priest in a woven cassock, who was wending his way homeward. Kollomietzev left his two companions and, going up to him with long, firm strides, asked for his blessing and gave him a sounding smack on his moist, red hand, much to the discomfiture of the priest, who did not in the least expect this sort of outburst. He then turned to Solomin and gave him a defiant look. He had evidently heard something about him and wanted to show off and get some fun out of this learned scoundrel.
“C’est une manifestation, mon cher?” Sipiagin muttered through his teeth.
Kollomietzev giggled.