g?'

'Take your coffee, and let the man go,' said Shubin. 'You say yourself
that one ought not _devant les domestiques_' he added in an undertone.

The servant gave Shubin a dubious look, while Nikolai Artemyevitch took
the cup of coffee, added some cream, and seized some ten lumps of sugar.

'I was just going to say when the servant came in,' he began, 'that
I count for nothing in this house. That's the long and short of the
matter. For nowadays every one judges from appearances; one man's
an empty-headed fool, but gives himself airs of importance, and he's
respected; while another, very likely, has talents which might--which
might gain him great distinction, but through modesty----'

'Aren't you a born statesman?' asked Shubin in a jeering voice.

'Give over playing the fool!' Nikolai Artemyevitch cried with heat. 'You
forget yourself! Here you have another proof that I count for nothing in
this house, nothing!'

'Anna Vassilyevna ill-uses you... poor fellow!' said Shubin, stretching.
'Ah, Nikolai Artemyevitch, we're a pair of sinners! You had much
better be getting a little present ready for Anna Vassilyevna, It's her
birthday in a day or two, and you know how she appreciates the least
attention on your part.'

'Yes, yes,' answered Nikolai Artemyevitch hastily. 'I'm much obliged to
you for reminding me. Of course, of course; to be sure. I have a little
thing, a dressing-case, I bought it the other day at Rosenstrauch's; but
I don't know really if it will do.'

'I suppose you bought it for her, the lady at Revel?'

'Why, certainly.--I had some idea.'

'Well, in that case, it will be sure to do.' Shubin got up from his
seat.

'Are we going out this evening, Pavel Yakovlitch, eh?' Nikolai
Artemyevitch asked with an amicable leer.

'Why yes, you are going to your club.'

'After the club... after the club.'

Shubin stretched himself again.

'No, Nikolai Artemyevitch, I want to work to-morrow. Another time.' And
he walked off.

Nikolai Artemyevitch scowled, walked twice up and down the room, took a
velvet box with the dressing-case out of the bureau and looked at it a
long while, rubbing it with a silk handkerchief. Then he sat down before
a looking-glass and began carefully arranging his thick black hair,
turning his head to right and to left with a dignified countenance, his
tongue pressed into his cheek, never taking his eyes off his parting.
Some one coughed behind his back; he looked round and saw