fingers. "Here is a five-kopek piece, here is a twenty-kopek piece, and then fffu!" he said, making a comic gesture with his hand.
Volódya entered the room.
"Well, are we going?"
"No."
"How funny you are!" said Nekhlyúdov. "Why did you not tell us that you had no money? Take my ticket if you wish!"
"And how about you?"
"He will go to the box of his cousins," said Dubkóv.
"No, I shall not go at all."
"Why?"
"Because, as you know, I do not like to stay in a box."
"Why?"
"I do not like it, I do not feel at ease."
"The old story! I can't understand why you should feel ill at ease, where everybody likes to see you. It is ridiculous, mon cher."
"What is to be done, si je suis timide? I am sure you have never blushed in all your life, but I do, for the merest trifle!" he said, blushing.
"Savez vous d'où vient votre timidité? D'un excès d'amour propre, mon cher," said Dubkóv, in a condescending tone.
"Where does the excès d'amour propre come in?" answered Nekhlyúdov, touched to the quick. "On the contrary, I am timid because I have too little amour propre; it always seems to me that people must feel tired and annoyed in my presence — that's why."
"Dress yourself, Volódya!" said Dubkóv, taking him by his shoulder, and pulling off his coat. "Ignát, your master wants to dress!"
"That's why I often feel —" continued Nekhlyúdov.
But Dubkóv did not listen to him, "Tra-la-ta-ra-ra-la-la," he sang out some air.
