“The passengers are asleep in their cabins . . .” thought Laevsky, and he envied the peace of mind of other people.

The windows in Samoylenko’s house were open.  Laevsky looked in at one of them, then in at another; it was dark and still in the rooms.

“Alexandr Daviditch, are you asleep?” he called.  “Alexandr Daviditch!”

He heard a cough and an uneasy shout: 

“Who’s there?  What the devil?”

“It is I, Alexandr Daviditch; excuse me.”

A little later the door opened; there was a glow of soft light from the lamp, and Samoylenko’s huge figure appeared all in white, with a white nightcap on his head.

“What now?” he asked, scratching himself and breathing hard from sleepiness.  “Wait a minute; I’ll open the door directly.”

“Don’t trouble; I’ll get in at the window. . . .”

Laevsky climbed in at the window, and when he reached Samoylenko, seized him by the hand.

“Alexandr Daviditch,” he said in a shaking voice, “save me!  I beseech you, I implore you.  Understand me!  My position is agonising.  If it goes on for another two days I shall strangle myself like . . . like a dog.”

“Wait a bit. . . .  What are you talking about exactly?”

“Light a candle.”

“Oh . . . oh! . . .” sighed Samoylenko, lighting a candle.  “My God!  My God! . . .  Why, it’s past one, brother.”

“Excuse me, but I can’t stay at home,” said Laevsky, feeling great comfort from the light and the presence of Samoylenko.  “You are my best, my only friend, Alexandr Daviditch. . . .  You are my only hope.  For God’s sake, come to my rescue, whether you want to or not.  I must get away from here, come what may! . . .  Lend me the money!”

“Oh, my God, my God! . . .” sighed Samoylenko, scratching himself.  “I was dropping asleep and I hear the whistle of the steamer, and now you . . .  Do you want much?”

“Three hundred roubles at least.  I must leave her a hundred, and I need two hundred for the journey. . . .  I owe you about four hundred already, but I will send it you all . . . all. . . .”

Samoylenko took hold of both his whiskers in one hand, and standing with his legs wide apart, pondered.

“Yes . . .” he muttered, musing.  “Three hundred. . . .  Yes. . . .  But I haven’t got so much.  I shall have to borrow it from some one.”

“Borrow it, for God’s sake!” said Laevsky, seeing from Samoylenko’s face that he wanted to lend him the money and certainly would lend it.  “Borrow it, and I’ll be sure to pay you back.  I will send it from Petersburg as soon as I get there.  You can set your mind at rest about that.  I’ll tell you what, Sasha,” he said, growing more animated; “let us have some wine.”

“Yes . . . we can have some wine, too.”

They both went into the dining-room.

“And how about Nadyezhda Fyodorovna?” asked Samoylenko, setting three bottles and a plate of peaches on the table.  “Surely she’s not remaining?”