They were both silent. Yourii at last stopped by the window and took up his cap.

“All right,” Novikoff readily assented, secretly hoping, while joyful yet distressed, that he might meet Lida Sanine.

Sanine — Part 48

They walked up and down the boulevard once or twice, meeting no one they knew, and they listened to the band which was playing as usual in the garden. It was a very poor performance; the music being harsh and discordant, but at a distance it sounded languorous and sad. They only met men and women joking and laughing, whose noisy merriment seemed at variance with the mournful music and the dreary evening. It irritated Yourii. At the end of the boulevard Sanine joined them, greeting them effusively. Yourii did not like him, so conversation was scarcely brisk. Sanine kept on laughing at everybody he saw. Later on they met Ivanoff, and Sanine went off with him.

Sanine — Part 48

“To treat my friend,” replied Ivanoff, producing a bottle of vodka which he showed to them in triumph.

Sanine — Part 48

To Yourii this vodka and laughter seemed singularly coarse and vulgar. He turned away in disgust. Sanine observed this, but said nothing.

“God, I thank Thee, that I am not as other men,” exclaimed Ivanoff mockingly.

Yourii reddened. “A stale joke like that into the bargain!” he thought, as, shrugging his shoulders contemptuously, he walked away.

“Novikoff, guileless Pharisee, come along with us!” cried Ivanoff.

Novikoff glanced round him ruefully, but Lida was not to be seen.

“Lida is at home, doing penance for her sins!” laughed Sanine.

“What nonsense!” exclaimed Novikoff testily. “I’ve got to see a patient…”

“Who is quite able to die without your help,” said Ivanoff. “For that matter, we can polish off the vodka without your help, either.”

“Suppose I get drunk?” thought Novikoff. “All right! I’ll come,” he said.

As they went away, Yourii could hear at a distance Ivanoff’s gruff bass voice and Sanine’s careless, merry laugh. He walked once more along the boulevard. Girlish voices called to him through the dusk. Sina Karsavina and the school-mistress Dubova were sitting on a bench. It was now getting dark, and their figures were hardly discernible. They wore dark dresses, were without hats, and carried books in their hands. Yourii hastened to join them.