Sanine laughed.
“Yes, yes, I know, but I advise Sarudine not to …”
“Not to—what?” asked Tanaroff, as he picked up his cap from the window-sill.
“I advise him not to touch me, or else I’ll give him such a thrashing that …”
“Look here!” cried Von Deitz, in a fury. “I’m not going to stand this… You … you are simply laughing at us. Don’t you understand that to refuse to accept a challenge is … is …”
He was as red as a lobster, his eyes were starting from his head, and there was foam on his lips.
Sanine looked curiously at his mouth, and said:
“And this is the man whose calls himself a disciple of Tolstoi!”
Von Deitz winced, and tossed his head.
“I must beg of you,” he spluttered, ashamed all the while at thus addressing a man with whom till now he had been on friendly terms. “I must beg of you not to mention that. It has nothing whatever to do with this matter.”