“Of course, madam, of course!” drawled Volochine, who was already somewhat bored.
The conversation languished, and they all seemed to be wearing smiling masks behind which lurked hostile eyes. Volochine winked at Sarudine in the most unmistakable manner; and this was not lost upon Sanine, who from his corner was watching them closely.
The thought that Volochine would no longer regard him as a smart, dashing, dare-devil sort of fellow gave Sarudine some of his old assurance.
“And where is Lidia Petrovna?” he asked carelessly.
Maria Ivanovna looked at him in surprise and anger. Her eyes seemed to say: “What is that to you, since you are not going to marry her?”
“I don’t know. Probably in her room,” she coldly replied.
Volochine shot another glance at his companion.
“Can’t you manage to make Lida come down quickly?” it said. “This old woman’s becoming a bore.”
Sarudine opened his mouth and feebly twisted his moustache.
“I have heard so many flattering things about your daughter,” began Volochine, smiling, and rubbing his hands, as he bent forward to Maria Ivanovna, “that I hope to have the honour of being introduced to her.”