He again walked forward quickly and his timid little companion ran after him. Andrey Ivanovich waited for several seconds. He was surprised that the stranger had answered in rhythm. He almost started after him, but I caught his hand.
“What’s the matter with you?” I said angrily.
“You’re sorry for your good companions?” he said spitefully. “Please, don’t be uneasy. They won’t go far....”
In very truth we caught sight of a black figure near the last houses. It was Ivan Ivanovich, alone.
He was standing in the road, panting and coughing and holding on to his breast.
“What’s the matter?” I asked sympathetically.
“Oh, oh! My death!... He went off.... Gennady.... He ordered me not to go with him.... To go with you. I can’t catch him.”
“That’s all right. Do you know the road?”
“It’s the broad road. He hurried on some place or other.”
“Fine.”