Viktor, staring at the ceiling, fell to talking, deliberately and
through his nose, of the theatre, of two actors he knew, of a certain
Serafrina Serafrinovna, who had 'made a fool' of him, of the new
professor, R., whom he called a brute. 'Because, only fancy, what a
monstrous notion! Every lecture he begins with calling over the
students' names, and he's reckoned a liberal too! I'd have all your
liberals locked up in custody!' and turning at last his full face and
whole body towards Fustov, he brought out in a half-plaintive,
half-ironical voice: 'I wanted to ask you something, Alexander
Daviditch.... Couldn't you talk my governor round somehow?... You play
duets with him, you know.... Here he gives me five miserable blue notes
a month.... What's the use of that! Not enough for tobacco. And then he
goes on about my not making debts! I should like to put him in my place,
and then we should see! I don't come in for pensions, not like _some
people_.' (Viktor pronounced these last words with peculiar
emphasis.) 'But he's got a lot of tin, I know! It's no use his whining
about hard times, there's no taking me in. No fear! He's made a snug
little pile!'
Fustov looked dubiously at Victor.
'If you like,' he began, 'I'll speak to your father. Or, if you like...
meanwhile... a trifling sum....'
'Oh, no! Better get round the governor... Though,' added Viktor,
scratching his nose with all his fingers at once, 'you might hand over
five-and-twenty roubles, if it's the same to you.... What's the blessed
total I owe you?'
'You've borrowed eighty-five roubles of me.'
'Yes.... Well, that's all right, then... make it a hundred and ten. I'll
pay it all in a lump.'
Fustov went into the next room, brought back a twenty-five-rouble note
and handed it in silence to Viktor. The latter took it, yawned with his
mouth wide open, grumbled thanks, and, shrugging and stretching, got up
from the sofa.
'Foo! though... I'm bored,' he muttered, 'might as well turn in to the
"Italie."'
He moved towards the door.
Fustov looked after him. He seemed to be struggling with himself.
'What pension were you alluding to just now, Viktor Ivanitch?' he asked
at last.
Viktor stopped in the doorway and put on his cap.
'Oh, don't you know? Susanna Ivanovna's pension.... She gets one. An
awfully curious story, I can tell you! I'll tell it you one of these
days. Quite an affair, 'pon my soul, a queer affair. But, I say, the
governor, you won't forget about the governor, please! His hide is
thick, of course--German, and it's had a Russian tanning too, still you
can get through it. Only, mind my step-mother Elenorka's nowhere about!
Dad's afraid of her, and she wants to keep everything for her brats! But
there, you know your way about! Good-bye!'
'Ugh, what a low beast that boy is!' cried Fustov, as soon as the door
had slammed-to.
His face was burning, as though from the fire, and he turned away from
me. I did not question him, and soon retired.