h to make you acquainted. If only you knew, Insarov, what a
marvellous girl there is there! There is an intimate friend of mine
staying there too, a man of great talent; I am sure you would get on
with him. [The Russian loves to be hospitable--of his friends if he can
offer nothing else.] Really, you must come. And what would be better
still, come and stay with me, do. We could work and read together....
I am busy, as you know, with history and philosophy. All that would
interest you. I have a lot of books.'

Insarov got up and walked about the room. 'Let me know,' he said, 'how
much do you pay for your cottage?'

'A hundred silver roubles.'

'And how many rooms are there?'

'Five.'

'Then one may reckon that one room costs twenty roubles?'

'Yes, one may reckon so.... But really it's utterly unnecessary for me.
It simply stands empty.'

'Perhaps so; but listen,' added Insarov, with a decided, but at the same
time good-natured movement of his head: 'I can only take advantage of
your offer if you agree to take the sum we have reckoned. Twenty roubles
I am able to give, the more easily, since, as you say, I shall be
economising there in other things.'

'Of course; but really I am ashamed to take it.'

'Otherwise it's impossible, Andrei Petrovitch.'

'Well, as you like; but what an obstinate fellow you are!'

Insarov again made no reply.

The young men made arrangements as to the day on which Insarov was to
move. They called the landlord; at first he sent his daughter, a little
girl of seven, with a large striped kerchief on her head; she listened
attentively, almost with awe, to all Insarov said to her, and went away
without speaking; after her, her mother, a woman far gone with child,
made her appearance, also wearing a kerchief on her head, but a very
diminutive one. Insarov informed her that he was going to stay at a
cottage near Kuntsovo, but should keep on his lodging and leave all his
things in their keeping; the tailor's wife too seemed scared and
went away. At last the man himself came in: he seemed to understand
everything from the first, and only said gloomily: 'Near Kuntsovo?' then
all at once he opened the door and shouted: 'Are you going to keep the
lodgings then?' Insarov reassured him. 'Well, one must know,' repeated
the tailor morosely, as he disappeared.

Bersenyev returned home, well content with the success of his proposal.
Insarov escorted him to the door with cordial good manners, not