He walked away from the table and stopped in the middle of the room, his hands hanging hopelessly at his sides.  The porter, passing again with glasses, probably noticed the helpless expression of his face, for he went close up to him and asked him in a low voice: 

“Well?  Have you inquired?”

“I’ve inquired, but he wouldn’t speak to me.”

“You give him three roubles,” whispered the porter.

“I’ve given him two already.”

“Give him another.”

Voldyrev went back to the table and laid a green note on the open book.

The clerk drew the book towards him again and began turning over the leaves, and all at once, as though by chance, lifted his eyes to Voldyrev.  His nose began to shine, turned red, and wrinkled up in a grin.

“Ah . . . what do you want?” he asked.

“I want to make an inquiry in reference to my case. . . .  My name is Voldyrev.”

“With pleasure!  The Gugulin case, isn’t it?  Very good.  What is it then exactly?”

Voldyrev explained his business.

The clerk became as lively as though he were whirled round by a hurricane.  He gave the necessary information, arranged for a copy to be made, gave the petitioner a chair, and all in one instant.  He even spoke about the weather and asked after the harvest.  And when Voldyrev went away he accompanied him down the stairs, smiling affably and respectfully, and looking as though he were ready any minute to fall on his face before the gentleman.  Voldyrev for some reason felt uncomfortable, and in obedience to some inward impulse he took a rouble out of his pocket and gave it to the clerk.  And the latter kept bowing and smiling, and took the rouble like a conjuror, so that it seemed to flash through the air.

“Well, what people!” thought the country gentleman as he went out into the street, and he stopped and mopped his brow with his handkerchief.

MARTYRS

LIZOTCHKA KUDRINSKY, a young married lady who had many admirers, was suddenly taken ill, and so seriously that her husband did not go to his office, and a telegram was sent to her mamma at Tver.  This is how she told the story of her illness: 

“I went to Lyesnoe to auntie’s.  I stayed there a week and then I went with all the rest to cousin Varya’s.  Varya’s husband is a surly brute and a despot (I’d shoot a husband like that), but we had a very jolly time there.  To begin with I took part in some private theatricals.  It was A Scandal in a Respectable Family.  Hrustalev acted marvellously!  Between the acts I drank some cold, awfully cold, lemon squash, with the tiniest nip of brandy in it.  Lemon squash with brandy in it is very much like champagne. . . .  I drank it and I felt nothing.  Next day after the performance I rode out on horseback with that Adolf Ivanitch.  It was rather damp and there was a strong wind.  It was most likely then that