Notes From The Underground 50

All sat down; I did the same. It was a round table. Tru-dolyubov was on my left, Simonov on my right, Zverkov was sitting opposite, Ferfitchkin next to him, between him and Trudolyubov.

‘Tell me, are you ... in a government office?’ Zverkov went on attending to me. Seeing that I was embarrassed he seriously thought that he ought to be friendly to me, and, so to speak, cheer me up.

‘Does he want me to throw a bottle at his head?’ I thought, in a fury. In my novel surroundings I was unnaturally ready to be irritated.

‘In the N—- office,’ I answered jerkily, with my eyes on my plate.

‘And ha-ave you a go-od berth? I say, what ma-a-de you leave your original job?’

‘What ma-a-de me was that I wanted to leave my original job,’ I drawled more than he, hardly able to control myself. Ferfitchkin went off into a guffaw. Simonov looked at me ironically. Trudolyubov left off eating and began looking at me with curiosity.

Zverkov winced, but he tried not to notice it.

And the remuneration?’

‘What remuneration?’

‘I mean, your sa-a-lary?’

‘Why are you cross-examining me?’ However, I told him at once what my salary was. I turned horribly red.

‘It is not very handsome,’ Zverkov observed majestically. ‘Yes, you can’t afford to dine at cafes on that,’ Ferfitchkin

added insolently.

‘To my thinking, it’s very poor,’ Trudolyubov observed gravely.

‘And how thin you have grown! How you have changed!’ added Zverkov, with a shade of venom in his voice, scanning me and my attire with a sort of insolent compassion.

‘Oh, spare his blushes,’ cried Ferfitchkin, sniggering. ‘My dear sir, allow me to tell you I am not blushing,’ I broke out at last; ‘do you hear? I am dining here, at this cafe, at my own expense, not at other people’s—note that, Mr. Ferfitchkin.’

‘What? Isn’t every one here dining at his own expense? You would seem to be ...’ Ferfitchkin flew out at me, turning as red as a lobster, and looking me in the face with fury. ‘That,’ I answered, feeling I had gone too far, ‘and I imagine it would be better to talk of something more intelligent.’

‘You intend to show off your intelligence, I suppose?’ ‘Don’t disturb yourself, that would be quite out of place here.’

‘Why are you clacking away like that, my good sir, eh? Have you gone out of your wits in your office?’

‘Enough, gentlemen, enough!’ Zverkov cried, authoritatively.

‘How stupid it is!’ muttered Simonov.

‘It really is stupid. We have met here, a company of friends, for a farewell dinner to a comrade and you carry on an altercation,’ said Trudolyubov, rudely addressing himself to me alone. ‘You invited yourself to join us, so don’t disturb the general harmony.’

‘Enough, enough!’ cried Zverkov. ‘Give over, gentlemen, it’s out of place. Better let me tell you how I nearly got married the day before yesterday ....’

To Be Continued.