"How do you get on with your step-brother?" asked Ilya when Jakov ceased coughing. His friend raised his face, quite blue with the exertion of coughing, and said, struggling to get his breath:
"He doesn't live here. His superiors won't let him—because of—the business. He—is bearable—a little uppish—plays the gentleman. Comes often for money to his mother. He's always wanting money."
Jakov lowered his voice, and went on in a troubled way:
"Do you remember that book? You know? Yes—he took it away from me—it was rare he said—that it was worth a lot—and so he took it away. I begged him—leave it to me—but no!—he would have it." Ilya laughed aloud. Then the two friends began their tea. Through the chinks in the wooden partition all kinds of noises and different odours made their way into the little room. One angry voice, towering above the rest, shouted:
"Mitry Nikolayitch—don't you throw my words back at me!"
"I'm reading a story now, brother," Jakov went on again; "it's called 'Julia, or the Subterranean Vault of the Muzzini Castle'—most interesting. And you? What are you doing that way?"
"Go to the devil with your subterranean vaults. I don't live so very high above ground myself," was Lunev's sulky answer.
Jakov looked at him sympathetically, and asked:
"Is there anything gone wrong with you?"
Lunev did not reply. He was wondering whether to tell Jakov of Masha or not; but Jakov began again gently: