“It is enough to look at you, to know that.”
The strange, menacing tone of his voice produced a sudden lull, almost as if a murder had been committed. Ivanoff guessed what was the matter.
“It seems to me that …” began Sarudine coldly. His manner had changed somewhat, though he did not lose his self-control.
“Come, come, gentlemen! What’s the matter?” cried Ivanoff.
“Don’t interfere! Let them fight it out!” interposed Sanine, laughing.
“It does not seem, but it is so!” said Novikoff, in the same tone, his eyes still fixed on his glass.
Instantly, as it were, a living wall rose up between the rivals, amid much shouting, waving of arms, and expressions of amusement or of surprise. Sarudine was held back by Malinowsky and Von Deitz, while Ivanoff and the other officers kept Novikoff in check. Ivanoff filled up the glasses, and shouted out something, addressing no one in particular. The gaiety was now forced and insincere, and Novikoff felt suddenly that he must get away.
He could bear it no longer. Smiling foolishly, he turned to Ivanoff and the officers who were trying to engage his attention.
“What is the matter with me?” he thought, half-dazed. “I suppose I ought to strike him … rush at him, and give him one in the eye! Otherwise, I shall look such a fool, for they must all have guessed that I wanted to pick a quarrel….”
But, instead of doing this, he pretended to be interested in what Ivanoff and Von Deitz were saying.