“No, not Korovkin,” I answered as abruptly, mistaking what he said.
“Dolgorowky?” the tall fellow almost shouted again, and he took a step towards me almost menacingly. His companion burst out laughing.
“He says ‘Dolgorowky’ and not Korovkin,” he explained to me. “You know in the Journal des Débats the French constantly distort Russian names. . . .”
“In the Indépendance,” growled the tall fellow.
“Well, it’s just the same in the Indépendance. Dolgoruky, for instance, they write Dolgorowky — I have seen it myself, and Valonyev is always written comte Wallonieff.”
“Doboyny! “cried the tall fellow.
“Yes, there’s Doboyny, too, I’ve seen it myself; and we both laughed; some Russian Madame Doboyny abroad . . . but there’s no need to mention them all, you know,” he said, turning suddenly to the tall fellow.
“Excuse me, are you M. Dolgoruky?”
“Yes, my name is Dolgoruky; how do you know it?”
The tall one suddenly whispered something to the pretty-looking lad; the latter frowned and shook his head, but the tall fellow immediately addressed me;
“Monsieur le prince, vous n’avez pas de rouble d’argent pour nous, pas deux, mais un seul, voulez-vous?”
“Oh, how horrid you are,” cried the boy.
“Nous vous rendons,” concluded the tall one, mispronouncing the French words coarsely and clumsily.
“He’s a cynic, you know,” the boy laughed to me; “and do you suppose he can’t speak French? He speaks like a Parisian, but he is mimicking those Russians who are awfully fond of talking aloud in French together before other people, though they can’t speak it themselves. . . .”
“Dans les wagons,” the tall fellow explained.
“To be sure, in railway carriages; oh, what a bore you are! There’s no need to explain. Why will you always pretend to be a fool?”
Meanwhile I took out a rouble and offered it to the tall fellow.
“Nous vous rendons,” said the latter, pocketing the rouble; and turning to the door with a perfectly unmoved and serious face, he proceeded to kick it with his huge coarse boot and without the faintest sign of ill-humour. . . .
“Ah, you will be fighting with Lambert again!” the boy observed uneasily. “You had much better ring the bell!”
I rang the bell, but the tall fellow continued kicking the door nevertheless.
“Ah, sacré . . .” we heard Lambert’s voice the other side of the door, and he quickly opened it.
“Dites donc, voulez-vous que je vous casse la tête, mon ami!” he shouted to the tall man.
“Mon ami, voilà Dolgorowky, l’autre mon ami,” the tall fellow replied with dignified gravity, staring at Lambert, who was red with anger. As soon as the latter saw me, he seemed suddenly transformed.
“It’s you, Arkady! At last! Then you are better, better are you at last?”
He seized my hands, pressing them warmly; he was in fact so genuinely delighted that I felt pleased at once, and even began to like him.
“I’ve come to you first of all!”
“Alphonsine!” cried Lambert.
She instantly skipped out from behind the screen.
“Le voilà!”
“C’est lui!” cried Alphonsine, clasping and unclasping her hands; she would have rushed to embrace me, but Lambert protected me.
“There, there, there, down, down!” he shouted to her as though she were a dog. “It’s like this, Arkady: some fellows have agreed to dine together to-day at the Tatars’. I shan’t let you go, you must come with us. We’ll have dinner; I’ll get rid of these fellows at once, and then we can have a chat. Come in, come in! We’ll set off at once, only wait a minute . . .”
I went in and stood in the middle of that room, looking about me, and remembering it. Lambert behind the screen hurriedly dressed. The tall fellow and his companion followed us in, in spite of Lambert’s words. We all remained standing.
“Mlle. Alphonsine, voulez-vous me baiser?” growled the tall man.
“Mlle. Alphonsine,” the younger one was beginning, showing her the tie, but she flew savagely at both of them.
“Ah, le petit vilain! “ she shouted to the younger one; “ne m’approchez pas, ne me salissez pas, et vous, le grand dadais, je vous planque à la porte tous les deux, savez vous cela!”
Though she warned him off with contempt and disgust, as though she were really afraid of being soiled by contact with him (which I could not at all understand because he was such a pretty fellow, and turned out to be just as well dressed when he took off his overcoat), the younger of the two men kept asking her to tie his tall friend’s cravat for him, and to put him on one of Lambert’s clean collars first. She was on the point of beating them in her indignation at such a suggestion, but Lambert overhearing, shouted to her behind the screen not to hinder them, but to do as they asked; “they won’t leave off if you don’t,” he added, and Alphonsine instantly produced a collar and began to fasten the tall man’s cravat without the slightest sign of disinclination. The man stretched out his neck just as he had done on the stairs, while she tied his cravat.
“Mlle. Alphonsine, avez vous vendu votre bologne?” he asked.
“Qu’est-ce que ça, ma bologne?”
The younger man explained that “ma bologne” meant a lapdog.
“Tiens, quel est ce baragouin?”
“Je parle comme une dame russe sur les eaux minérales,” observed le grand dadais, still with his neck outstretched.
“Qu’est-ce que ça qu’une dame russe sur les eaux minérales et . . . où est donc votre jolie montre, que Lambert vous a donnée,” she said suddenly to the younger one.
“What, no watch again,” Lambert chimed in irritably behind the screen.
“We’ve eaten it up!” growled le grand dadais.
“I sold it for eight roubles: it was only silver gilt, and you said it was gold; so now at the shop it’s only sixteen roubles,” the younger answered Lambert, defending himself reluctantly.
“We must put an end to this!” Lambert said even more irritably. “I don’t buy you clothes, my young friend, and give you good things, for you to spend them on your tall friend. . . . What was that tie too that you bought him?”
“That was only a rouble; that was not with your money. He had no cravat at all, and he ought to buy a hat too.”
“Nonsense!” Lambert was really angry. “I gave him enough for a hat too, and he goes off and wastes it on oysters and champagne. He positively reeks; he’s dirty and untidy; you can’t take him anywhere. How can I take him out to dinner?”
“I’m a cad,” growled the dadais. “Nous avons un rouble d’argent que nous avons prêté chez notre nouvel ami.”
“Don’t you give him anything, Arkady,” Lambert cried again.
“Excuse me, Lambert; I ask you plainly for ten roubles,” cried the boy, growing suddenly angry and flushing, which made him look twice as handsome as before; “and don’t ever dare to say such stupid things as you did just now to Dolgoruky. I must have ten roubles to pay Dolgoruky back that rouble at once, and with the rest I’ll buy Andreyev a hat, so you see.”
Lambert came out from behind the screen:
“Here are three yellow notes, and three roubles, and there’s nothing more till Tuesday, and don’t dare . . . or else. . . .”
Le grand dadais fairly snatched the money from him.
“Dolgorowky, here is the rouble nous vous rendons avec beaucoup de grâce. Petya, come along!” he called to his companion. Then holding up the two notes and waving them in the air, while he stared fixedly at Lambert, he yelled at the top of his voice:
“Ohé Lambert! Oû est Lambert, as-tu vu Lambert?”
“How dare you, how dare you,” Lambert yelled too, in terrible wrath: I saw that underlying all this was something in the past of which I knew nothing, and I looked on in astonishment. But the tall fellow was not in the least alarmed by Lambert’s wrath; on the contrary, he yelled louder than ever: “Ohé Lambert!” and so on. And so shouting, they went out on the stairs. Lambert was running after them, but he turned back.
“I’ll throw them out by the scr-r-ruff of their necks! They cost more than they are worth. . . . Come along, Arkady! I’m late. I am expected there by another . . . fellow I need . . . a beast too. . . . They’re all beasts! A low lot, a low lot!” he shouted again, almost gnashing his teeth; but all at once he recovered himself completely.