"I've got your letter, my dear fellow," said he at last in his dry, deliberate voice. "But there's nothing that I can see just now."
"Absolutely nothing, my dear fellow. Every place is taken. And I don't see anything in prospect for the near future. Perhaps something might be done for you at New Year."
"I'll be glad of a chance even then," said Igumnov, smiling in such a way as to suggest that a mere eight months was of no account to him.
"Yes, I'll be very glad to do something then. If it depended upon me you'd get your place to-day. I'd like very much to be of use to you, my good man."
"But tell me," asked Semiboyarinov sympathetically, "why did you leave your old place?"
"They found no use for me," answered Igumnov, confused.
"No use for you? Well, I hope we'll find some use for you. Let me have your address, my good fellow."
Semiboyarinov began to rummage on his table for a piece of paper. Igumnov just then caught sight of his own letter under a marble paper-weight.
"So it is!" said his host briskly. "I'll make a note of it."
"I have the habit," observed Igumnov, rising from his place, "always to write my address at the beginning of a letter."
Igumnov took his leave and went out smiling, proud of his European habits, which, however, did not prevent him from feeling hungry. He was almost glad that the unpleasant conversation was at an end. He recalled all the polite words, and especially those that contained the promise; foolish hopes awakened in him. But a few minutes later, as he was walking in the street, he realized that the promise would come to nothing. Besides, it was made for the future, and he had need of food now, and he must go to his lodgings with a heavy heart--what would his landlady say? What could he say to her?
Igumnov began to walk more slowly, then he turned in the opposite direction. Lost in gloom, he walked on, pale and hungry, through the noisy streets of the capital, past busy satiated people. His smile vanished. The look of dark despair gave a certain significance to his usually little expressive features.
He was now close to the Niva. The huge dome of the Isakiyevski Cathedral glowed golden in the wide expanse of blue sky. The large open squares and streets were enveloped in the gentle, scarcely perceptible, dust-like haze of the rays of the setting sun. The din of carriages was softened in these magnificent open spaces. Everything seemed strange and hostile to the hungry, helpless man. The beautiful, rich-coloured fruits behind the shop windows could not have been more inaccessible if they were under the watch of a strong guard.