Sipiagin frowned.
“With a certain Mr. Solomin, the chief engineer there, Mr. Paklin says.”
It seemed to afford Sipiagin some peculiar pleasure in tormenting poor Sila. He made him pay dearly for the cigar he had given him and the playful familiarity of his behaviour.
“This Solomin,” Kollomietzev put in, “is an out-and-out radical and republican. It would be a good thing if your excellency were to turn your attention to him too.”
“Do you know these gentlemen ... Solomin, and what’s his name ... Nejdanov?” the governor asked Markelov, somewhat authoritatively.
Markelov distended his nostrils malignantly.
“Do you know Confucius and Titus Livius, your excellency?”
The governor turned away.
“Il n’y a pas moyen de causer avec cette homme,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Baron, come here, please.”
The adjutant went up to him quickly and Paklin seized the opportunity of limping over to Sipiagin.