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again—in a word, I behaved like a boy loosened from all control. Thus, time passed imperceptibly. Zourine looked at the clock, laid down his cue, and informed me that I owed him one hundred roubles. I was a little taken aback. Savelitch kept my money. I began to offer some excuse. Zourine interrupted me: "Pray do not mention it. I can wait your convenience, and in the meanwhile let us go to Arinoushka's."

What more am I to say? I ended the day as giddily as I had begun it. We supped at Arinoushka's. Zourine kept filling my glass, repeating that I must get used to the service. On leaving the table, I could scarcely stand; at midnight Zourine took me back to the inn.

Savelitch met us at the threshold. He started at the undeniable evidence of my zeal for the service.

"What has happened to thee, sir?" said he, in a sorrowful voice. "Where hast thou managed to get such a skinful? Dear me! never has such a misfortune happened."

"Hold thy tongue, old owl!" answered I, stammering, "thou art surely drunk; go to sleep—and put me to bed."

The next day I awoke with a headache, vaguely recalling the events of the previous evening. My reflections were interrupted by Savelitch, who came to me with a cup of tea. "Thou art making an early beginning Piotr Andrevitch,"[1] said he, shaking his head." And who dost thou take after? So far as I know, neither thy father, nor thy grandfather, were drunkards; to mention thy mother is unnecessary—she has never from her

  1. Peter, the son of Andrew.—Tr.