The discussion became confused. Yourii felt that he had not meant to say that, but the thread escaped him which a moment before had seemed so clear and tense. He paced up and down the room, endeavouring to overcome his vexation, as he said to himself.
“Sometimes one is not in the humour. At other times one can speak as clearly as if the words were set before one’s eyes. Sometimes I seem to be tongue-tied, and I express myself clumsily. Yes, that often happens.”
They were both silent. Yourii at last stopped by the window and took up his cap.
“Let us go for a stroll,” he said.
“All right,” Novikoff readily assented, secretly hoping, while joyful yet distressed, that he might meet Lida Sanine.
CHAPTER IX.
They walked up and down the boulevard once or twice, meeting no one they knew, and they listened to the band which was playing as usual in the garden. It was a very poor performance; the music being harsh and discordant, but at a distance it sounded languorous and sad. They only met men and women joking and laughing, whose noisy merriment seemed at variance with the mournful music and the dreary evening. It irritated Yourii. At the end of the boulevard Sanine joined them, greeting them effusively. Yourii did not like him, so conversation was scarcely brisk. Sanine kept on laughing at everybody he saw. Later on they met Ivanoff, and Sanine went off with him.
“Where are you going?” asked Novikoff.
“To treat my friend,” replied Ivanoff, producing a bottle of vodka which he showed to them in triumph.
Sanine laughed.