“Yes,” continued Sanine, after a pause, “Nature never meant men to be abstinent, and the sincerest men are those who do not conceal their desires, that is to say, those who socially count as blackguards, fellows such as—you, for instance.”
Sarudine started back in amazement.
“Yes, you,” continued Sanine, affecting not to notice this, “You’re the best fellow in the world, or, at any rate, you think you are. Come now, tell me, have you ever met a better?”
“Yes, lots of them,” replied Sarudine, with some hesitation. He had not the least idea what Sanine meant, nor if he ought to appear amused or annoyed.
“Well, name them, please,” said Sanine.
Sarudine shrugged his shoulders, doubtfully.
“There, you see!” exclaimed Sanine gaily. “You yourself are the best of good fellows, and so am I; yet we both of us would not object to stealing, or telling lies or committing adultery—least of all to committing adultery.”
“How original!” muttered Sarudine, as he again shrugged his shoulders.
“Do you think so?” asked the other, with a slight shade of annoyance in his tone. “Well, I don’t! Yes, blackguards, as I said, are the most sincere and interesting people imaginable, for they have no conception of the bounds of human baseness. I always feel particularly pleased to shake hands with a blackguard.”
He immediately grasped Sarudine’s hand and shook it vigorously as he looked him full in the face. Then he frowned, and muttered curtly, “Good-bye, good-night,” and left him.