He did not know—how should he—the sadness that filled the hearts of the two strangers, the memories that crowded their brains that evening, the visions they saw in the fantastic play of fire and smoke. Besides, he had troubles of his own.
The young man who sat by the chimney raised his head and looked at Makar with puzzled eyes, as if not recognising him. Then, with a shake of his head, he quickly got up from his chair.
“Ah, good evening, good evening, Makar. Good. Will you have tea with us?”
“Tea?” Makar repeated after him. “That’s good. That’s good, brother; that’s fine.”
He began quickly to take off his things. Once free of his fur coat and cap he felt more at his ease, and, seeing the red coals already glowing in the samovar, he turned to the young man with exaggerated enthusiasm.
“I like you, that is the truth. I like you so, so very much; at night I don’t sleep——”
The stranger turned, and a bitter smile crept over his face.
“You like me, do you?” he asked. “What do you want?”
“Business,” Makar answered. “But how did you know?”
“All right. When I’ve had tea I’ll tell you.”