Sanine did not reply to the question, but maliciously handed Volochine the hat. From the latter’s open mouth a stifled sound escaped like a plaintive squeak.
“What do you mean by that?” cried Sarudine angrily, aware that he was losing his temper. “A scandal!” he thought to himself.
“I mean what I say,” replied Sanine. “Your presence here is utterly unnecessary, and we shall all be delighted to see the last of you.”
Sarudine took a step forward. He looked extremely uncomfortable, and his white teeth gleamed threateningly, like those of a wild beast.
“Aha! That’s it, is it?” he muttered, breathing hard.
“Get out!” said Sanine contemptuously, yet in so terrible a tone that Sarudine glared, and voluntarily drew back.
“I don’t know what the deuce it all means!” said Volochine, under his breath, as with shoulders raised he hurried to the door.
But there, in the door-way, stood Lida. She was dressed in a style quite different from her usual one. Instead of a fashionable coiffure, she wore her hair in a thick plait hanging down her back. Instead of an elegant costume she was wearing a loose gown of diaphanous texture, the simplicity of which alluringly heightened the beauty of her form.
As she smiled, her likeness to Sanine became more remarkable, and, in her sweet, girlish voice she said calmly:
“Here I am. Why are you hurrying away? Victor Sergejevitsch, do put down your cap!”