"In that event, allow me to show you into my private room," said Maniloff, and led him into a small adjoining chamber, the windows of which afforded a view of a gloomy fir-tree forest looming in the distance. "This is my own little corner," added Maniloff.
"A very pretty and comfortable room," said Tchichikoff, whilst casting a glance around. The room had really its pleasing features; the walls were painted of a light blue colour of a greyish tint; it contained four chairs, one arm-chair, a table; upon the latter lay the book with the marked page, of which we had already had occasion to speak, a few writing materials, and a quantity of tobacco. That fragrant weed was laying about in various forms and places, in packages, in pouches and boxes, and lastly even upon the table. Upon both windows numerous little heaps of tobacco ashes from his pipe were ranged, not without taste, in symmetrical order. It was obvious that this arrangement sometimes assisted the master of the house in passing his time pleasantly.
"Pray be seated in this arm-chair," said Maniloff; "here you will be more comfortable."
"I beg you will allow me to prefer this chair."
"Permit me to insist upon your' seating yourself in this arm-chair;" said Maniloff with a smile. "This old arm-chair has been assigned by me for my friends; and, therefore, whether you like it or not you must sit down in it."
Tchichikoff seated himself in the arm-chair.
"Will you take a pipe or a cigar?"
"I thank you, but I do not smoke," replied Tchichikoff civilly, as if with an air of regret.
"And pray, why don't you?" inquired Maniloff, also civilly, and with an air of regret.
"I did not contract the habit, I am afraid, because I was told that smoking originates consumption."