e town. Markelov's old servant, who was sitting on the
doorstep, accompanied his former master with his habitual dejected
glance.

The merchant Golushkin, with whom it was necessary to acquaint Nejdanov,
was the son of a wealthy merchant in drugs, an Old Believer, of the
Thedosian sect. He had not increased the fortune left to him by his
father, being, as the saying goes, a joneur, an Epicurean in the Russian
fashion, with absolutely no business abilities. He was a man of forty,
rather stout and ugly, pock-marked, with small eyes like a pig's. He
spoke hurriedly, swallowing his words as it were, gesticulated with
his hands, threw his legs about and went into roars of laughter at
everything. On the whole, he gave one the impression of being a stupid,
spoiled, conceited bounder. He considered himself a man of culture
because he dressed in the German fashion, kept an open house (though it
was not overly clean), frequented the theatre, and had many protegees
among variety actresses, with whom he conversed in some extraordinary
jargon meant to be French. His principal passion was a thirst for
popularity. "Let the name of Golushkin thunder through the world! As
once Suvorov or Potyomkin, then why not now Kapiton Golushkin?" It was
this very passion, conquering even his innate meanness, which had thrown
him, as he himself expressed it not without a touch of pride, "into the
arms of the opposition" (formerly he used to say "position," but
had learned better since then) and brought him in contact with the
nihilists. He gave expression to the most extreme views, scoffed at
his own Old Believer's faith, ate meat in Lent, played cards, and drank
champagne like water. He never got into difficulties, because he said,
"Wherever necessary, I have bribed the authorities. All holes are
stitched up, all mouths are closed, all ears are stopped."

He was a widower without children. His sister's sons fawned around him
continuously, but he called them a lot of ignorant louts, barbarians,
and would hardly look at them. He lived in a large, stone house, kept in
rather a slovenly manner. Some of the rooms were furnished with foreign
furniture, others contained nothing but a few painted wooden chairs and
a couch covered with American cloth. There were pictures everywhere of
an indifferent variety. Fiery landscapes, purple seascapes, fat naked
women with pink-coloured knees and elbows, and "The Kiss" by Moller. In
spite of the fact that Golushkin