“Well, now,—what do you want with a cork?”
“No, Petr Petrovich,” said Pavel Semenovich seriously, “you’re wrong.... The question is, so to speak——”
“You find questions everywhere in the simplest things,” said Petr Petrovich. “Don’t bother about me. You’ve got a large enough audience.”
“Go on, please,” said the gentleman with the gold glasses.
“If you wish.... I’ll be more than glad, for I’ve got to get it off my mind. I stopped——”
“You stopped,” said Petr Petrovich laughingly, “with Alcibiades.... A story, so to speak, from the Ancient Times. Now for the Middle Ages....”
Pavel Semenovich paid no attention to this sally and turned to the new member of the group:
“You see how it was. The thing was this way: Gavrilo was married and living by himself.... In M. Budnikov’s table still lay the ticket with the two lines.... There were ugly rumors about it and, of course, they were exaggerated. Gavrilo was the only one who didn’t know of them. He kept on working as before, did all he could, and tried.... He was a muscular symphony in performance, with his eyes full of general satisfaction and good humor....
“And then Rogov suddenly turned up. He was walking along the path by the yard; he stopped, thought a moment, and called Gavrilo.