However, after a week, the prince overcame his feelings, though it
cost him a good deal, for his hair had begun to turn grey. He went to
Rozanof and said:
"I see love can't be forced, but I don't want to lose my only friend
for the sake of a woman."
Rozanof put his arms about his friend and wept. And Marya Gavrilovna
gave him her hand--she was there at the time--and said:
"I admire you very much, Andrey Lvovitch, and I also want to be your
friend."
Then the prince was quite cheered up, and his face brightened. "Confess
now," said he, "if Rozanof hadn't called me a fool that time in the
Yar, you wouldn't have fallen in love with him?"
She only smiled.
"That's very probable," said she.
Then, in another week, something else happened. Prince Andrey came in
one day, dull and absent-minded. He spoke of one thing and another, but
always as if he had some persistent idea in the background. The artist,
who knew his character, asked what was the matter.
"Oh, nothing," said the prince.
"Well, but all the same, what is it?"
"Oh, it's nothing, I tell you. The stupid bank in which my money is...."
"Well?"
"It's failed. And now I've nothing of all my property except what I
have here with me."
"Oh, that's really nothing," said Rozanof, and he at once called Marya
Gavrilovna, and they had the upper part of their house put in order so
that the prince might come and live with them.
X
So the prince settled down to live with Rozanof. He used to lie on the
sofa all day, read French novels and polish his nails. But he soon got
tired of this, and one day he said to his friend:
"Do you know, I once learnt to paint!"