“Poems like yours please your friends, not because they are good, but because you are a good man and they are like you.”
Nejdanov smiled.
“You have completely buried them and me with them!”
Mariana slapped his hand and called him naughty. Soon after she announced that she was tired and wanted to go to bed.
“By the way,” she added, shaking back her short thick curls, “do you know that I have a hundred and thirty roubles? And how much have you?”
“Ninety-eight.”
“Oh, then we are rich ... for simplified folk. Well, good night, until tomorrow.”
She went out, but in a minute or two her door opened slightly and he heard her say, “Goodnight!” then more softly another “Goodnight!” and the key turned in the lock.
Nejdanov sank on to the sofa and covered his face with his hands. Then he got up quickly, went to her door and knocked.
“What is it?” was heard from within.