“It is not a question of trifles,” continued Sarudine, bitterly, “it is the principle of the thing. May I ask what right you …”
“I …” stammered Tanaroff.
“Pray don’t explain,” said Sarudine, in the same cutting tone. “I must beg you not to take such a liberty again.”
Tanaroff’s lips quivered. He hung his head, and nervously fingered his mother-of-pearl cigarette-holder. After a moment’s pause, Sarudine turned sharply round, and, jingling the keys loudly, opened the drawer of his bureau.
“There! go and buy what is wanted!” he said irritably, but in a calmer tone, as he handed the soldier a hundred-rouble note.
“Very good, sir,” replied the soldier, who saluted and withdrew.
Sarudine pointedly locked his cash-box and shut the drawer of the bureau. Tanaroff had just time to glance at the box containing the fifty roubles which he needed so much, and then, sighing, lit a cigarette. He felt deeply mortified, yet he was afraid to show this, lest Sarudine should become more angry.
“What are two roubles to him?” he thought, “He knows very well that I am hard up.”
Sarudine continued walking up and down obviously irritated, but gradually growing calmer. When the servant brought in the beer, he drank off a tumbler of the ice-cold foaming beverage with evident gusto. Then as he sucked the end of his moustache, he said, as if nothing had happened.
“Lida came again to see me yesterday, A fine girl, I tell you! As hot as they make them.”