II
At the sight of visitors in his room, he stopped short in the doorway, took them all in in a glance, flung off his cap, dropped the books straight on to the floor, and without a word went up to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. His handsome white face, which looked still whiter from the deep red of his wavy chestnut hair, expressed dissatisfaction and annoyance.
Mashurina turned slightly away, biting her lip; Ostrodumov growled: 'At last!'
Paklin was the first to approach Nezhdanov.
'What's wrong with you, Alexey Dmitrievitch, Hamlet of Russia? Has any one offended you? or is it a causeless melancholy?'
'Stop that, please, Mephistopheles of Russia,' answered Nezhdanov irritably. 'I'm not equal to a contest with you in dull smartness.'
Paklin laughed.
'You don't express yourself very accurately; if it's smart, it's not dull; if it's dull, it's not smart.'
14
