Saranin was inflamed with joy.
"How much shall I want, now?" pondered Saranin. "She must be about two hundred pounds, for certain. If she loses a hundred and twenty pounds, she'll be quite a tiny little woman. That will be fine!"
"Give me a hundred and twenty drops."
The Armenian shook his head.
"You want a lot, that will be bad!"
Saranin flared up.
"Well, that's my business."
The Armenian looked at him searchingly.
"Count out the money."
Saranin took out his pocket-book.
"All to-day's winnings, and you've got to add some of your own as well," he reflected.
The Armenian in the meantime took out a cut-glass phial, and began to count out the drops.
A sudden doubt was enkindled in Saranin's mind.
A hundred and twenty roubles, a tidy sum of money. And supposing he cheats.
"They really will work?" he asked, undecidedly.
"We don't sell a pig in a poke," said the master of the house. "I'll show you now how it works. Gaspar—" he shouted.
The same bare-footed lad entered. He had on a red jacket and short blue trousers. His brown legs were bare to above the knees. They were
