“There’s very little vodka left, either,” added the soldier.
“All right! Damn you! You’ve still got a couple of roubles. Go and buy what is wanted.”
“Please, sir, I haven’t got any money at all.”
“How’s that? What do you mean by lying?” exclaimed Sarudine, stopping short.
“If you please, sir, I was told to pay the washerwoman one rouble and seventy copecks, which I did, and I put the other thirty copecks on the dressing-table, sir.”
“Yes, that’s right,” said Tanaroff, with assumed carelessness of manner, though blushing for very shame, “I told him to do that yesterday … the woman had been worrying me for a whole week, don’t you know.”
Two red spots appeared on Sarudine’s scrupulously shaven cheeks, and the muscles of his face worked convulsively. He silently resumed his walk up and down the room and suddenly stopped in front of Tanaroff.
“Look here,” he said, and his voice trembled with anger, “I should be much obliged if, in future, you would leave me to manage my own money- affairs.”
Tanaroff’s face flushed crimson.
“H’m! A trifle like that!” he muttered, shrugging his shoulders.