"What a question! The day before yesterday I played you at billiards, at Gambrinus's, and won three games right off."
"Ah!"
"So they're not at home? That's strange. I might almost say it's ridiculous. Where can the old woman have gone? I want to speak with her."
"And I too, batuchka, I want to speak with her."
"Well, what's to be done? I suppose we must go back to whence we came.
I wanted to borrow some money of her!" exclaimed the young man.
"Of course we must go back again; but why then did she make an appointment? She herself, the old witch, told me to come at this hour. And it's a long way to where I live. Where the deuce can she be? I don't understand it. She never stirs from one year's end to the other, the old witch; she quite rots in the place, her legs have always got something the matter with them, and now all on a sudden she goes gallivanting about!"
"Suppose we question the porter?"
"What for?"
"To find out where she's gone and when she will be back."
"Hum!—the deuce!—question!—but she never goes anywhere." And he again tugged at the door handle. "The devil take her! there's nothing to be done but to go."