me! But if you are a gentleman, why, act as such . . . behave like one! No putting bread in the oven for me! No calling a draggletail old woman auntie! No disgracing the uniform! Silence! No arguing!'
The major's voice broke. He took breath, and turning towards the door into the passage, bawled, 'Frolka, you scoundrel! The herrings!'
Pyetushkov rose hurriedly and darted away, almost upsetting the page-boy, who ran to meet him, carrying some sliced herring and a stout decanter of spirits on an iron tray.
'Silence! No arguing!' sounded after Pyetushkov the disjointed exclamations of his exasperated superior officer.
IX
A queer sensation overmastered Ivan Afanasiitch when, at last, he found himself in the street.
'Why am I walking as it were in a dream?' he thought to himself. 'Am I out of my mind, or what? Why, it passes all belief, at last. Come, damn it, she's tired of me, come, and I've grown tired of her, come, and . . . What is there out of the way in that?'
Pyetushkov frowned.
'I must put an end to it, once for all,' he said almost aloud. 'I'll go and speak out
303
