Samoylenko got up, put his arm round Laevsky’s waist, and both of them went into Nikodim Alexandritch’s study.

“To-morrow’s Friday,” said Laevsky, biting his nails. “Have you got what you promised?”

“I’ve only got two hundred. I’ll get the rest to-day or to-morrow. Don’t worry yourself.”

“Thank God …” sighed Laevsky, and his hands began trembling with joy. “You are saving me, Alexandr Daviditch, and I swear to you by God, by my happiness and anything you like, I’ll send you the money as soon as I arrive. And I’ll send you my old debt too.”

“Look here, Vanya …” said Samoylenko, turning crimson and taking him by the button. “You must forgive my meddling in your private affairs, but … why shouldn’t you take Nadyezhda Fyodorovna with you?”

“You queer fellow. How is that possible? One of us must stay, or our creditors will raise an outcry. You see, I owe seven hundred or more to the shops. Only wait, and I will send them the money. I’ll stop their mouths, and then she can come away.”

“I see. … But why shouldn’t you send her on first?”

“My goodness, as though that were possible!” Laevsky was horrified. “Why, she’s woman; what would she do there alone? What does she know about it? That would only be a loss of time and a useless waste of money.”

“That’s reasonable …” thought Samoylenko, but remembering his conversation with Von Koren, he looked down and said sullenly: “I can’t agree with you. Either go with her or send her first; otherwise … otherwise I won’t give you the money. Those are my last words …”

He staggered back, lurched backwards against the door, and went into the drawing-room, crimson, and overcome with confusion.

“Friday … Friday,” thought Laevsky, going back into the drawing-room. “Friday. …”

He was handed a cup of chocolate; he burnt his lips and tongue with the scalding chocolate and thought: “Friday … Friday …”

For some reason he could not get the word “Friday” out of his head; he could think of nothing but Friday, and the only thing that was clear to him, not in his brain but somewhere in his heart, was that he would not get off on Saturday. Before him stood Nikodim Alexandritch, very neat, with his hair combed over his temples, saying:

“Please take something to eat. …”

“Marya Konstantinovna showed the visitors Katya’s school report and said, drawling:

“It’s very, very difficult to do well at school nowadays! So much is expected …”

“Mamma!” groaned Katya, not knowing where to hide her confusion at the praises of the company.

Laevsky, too, looked at the report and praised it. Scripture, Russian language, conduct, fives and fours, danced before his eyes, and all this, mixed with the haunting refrain of “Friday,” with the carefully combed locks of Nikodim Alexandritch and the red cheeks of Katya, produced on him a sensation of such immense overwhelming boredom that he almost shrieked with despair and asked himself: “Is it possible, is it possible I shall not get away?”

They put two card tables side by side and sat down to play post. Laevsky sat down too.