Von Rabbek’s son invited a scraggy-looking young lady to dance, and waltzed round the room twice with her.  Lobytko, gliding over the parquet floor, flew up to the lilac young lady and whirled her away.  Dancing began. . . .  Ryabovitch stood near the door among those who were not dancing and looked on.  He had never once danced in his whole life, and he had never once in his life put his arm round the waist of a respectable woman.  He was highly delighted that a man should in the sight of all take a girl he did not know round the waist and offer her his shoulder to put her hand on, but he could not imagine himself in the position of such a man.  There were times when he envied the boldness and swagger of his companions and was inwardly wretched; the consciousness that he was timid, that he was round-shouldered and uninteresting, that he had a long waist and lynx-like whiskers, had deeply mortified him, but with years he had grown used to this feeling, and now, looking at his comrades dancing or loudly talking, he no longer envied them, but only felt touched and mournful.

When the quadrille began, young Von Rabbek came up to those who were not dancing and invited two officers to have a game at billiards.  The officers accepted and went with him out of the drawing-room.  Ryabovitch, having nothing to do and wishing to take part in the general movement, slouched after them.  From the big drawing-room they went into the little drawing-room, then into a narrow corridor with a glass roof, and thence into a room in which on their entrance three sleepy-looking footmen jumped up quickly from the sofa.  At last, after passing through a long succession of rooms, young Von Rabbek and the officers came into a small room where there was a billiard-table.  They began to play.

Ryabovitch, who had never played any game but cards, stood near the billiard-table and looked indifferently at the players, while they in unbuttoned coats, with cues in their hands, stepped about, made puns, and kept shouting out unintelligible words.

The players took no notice of him, and only now and then one of them, shoving him with his elbow or accidentally touching him with the end of his cue, would turn round and say “Pardon!” Before the first game was over he was weary of it, and began to feel he was not wanted and in the way. . . .  He felt disposed to return to the drawing-room, and he went out.

On his way back he met with a little adventure.  When he had gone half-way he noticed he had taken a wrong turning.  He distinctly remembered that he ought to meet three sleepy footmen on his way, but he had passed five or six rooms, and those sleepy figures seemed to have vanished into the earth.  Noticing his mistake, he walked back a little way and turned to the right; he found himself in a little dark room which he had not seen on his way to the billiard-room.  After standing there a little while, he resolutely opened the first door that met his eyes and walked into an absolutely dark room.  Straight in front could be seen the crack in the doorway through which there was a gleam of vivid light; from the other side of the door came the muffled sound of a melancholy mazurka.  Here, too, as in the drawing-room, the windows were wide open and there was a smell of poplars, lilac and roses. . . .