from his seat. Karmazinov
held out both hands to him at parting.

"And what if all that you are... plotting for is destined to come
to pass..." he piped suddenly, in a honeyed voice with a peculiar
intonation, still holding his hands in his. "How soon could it come
about?"

"How could I tell?" Pyotr Stepanovitch answered rather roughly. They
looked intently into each other's eyes.

"At a guess? Approximately?" Karmazinov piped still more sweetly.

"You'll have time to sell your estate and time to clear out too," Pyotr
Stepanovitch muttered still more roughly. They looked at one another
even more intently.

There was a minute of silence.

"It will begin early next May and will be over by October," Pyotr
Stepanovitch said suddenly.

"I thank you sincerely," Karmazinov pronounced in a voice saturated with
feeling, pressing his hands.

"You will have time to get out of the ship, you rat," Pyotr Stepanovitch
was thinking as he went out into the street. "Well, if that 'imperial
intellect' inquires so confidently of the day and the hour and thanks
me so respectfully for the information I have given, we mustn't doubt
of ourselves. [He grinned.] H'm! But he really isn't stupid... and he is
simply a rat escaping; men like that don't tell tales!"

He ran to Filipov's house in Bogoyavlensky Street.

VI

Pyotr Stepanovitch went first to Kirillov's. He found him, as usual,
alone, and at the moment practising gymnastics, that is, standing with
his legs apart, brandishing his arms above his head in a peculiar way.
On the floor lay a ball. The tea stood cold on the table, not cleared
since breakfast. Pyotr Stepanovitch stood for a minute on the threshold.

"You are very anxious about your health, it seems," he said in a loud
and cheerful tone, going into the room. "What a jolly ball, though; foo,
how it bounces! Is that for gymnastics too?"

Kirillov put on his coat.

"Yes, that's for the good of my health too," he muttered dryly. "Sit
down."

"I'm only here for a minute. Still, I'll sit down. Health is all very
well, but I've come to remind you of our agreement. The appointed time
is approaching... in a certain sense," he concluded awkwardly.

"What agreement?"

"How can you ask?" Pyotr Stepanovitch was startled and even dismayed.

"It's not an agreement and not an obligation. I have not bound myself in
any way; it's a mistake on your part."

"I say, what's this you're doing?" Pyotr Stepanovitch jumped up.