“Yes, it is for Laevsky I am asking it,” said Samoylenko, standing up and waving his right arm.  “Yes!  For Laevsky!  And no one, fiend or devil, has a right to dictate to me how to dispose of my own money.  It doesn’t suit you to lend it me?  No?”

The deacon began laughing.

“Don’t get excited, but be reasonable,” said the zoologist.  “To shower benefits on Mr. Laevsky is, to my thinking, as senseless as to water weeds or to feed locusts.”

“To my thinking, it is our duty to help our neighbours!” cried Samoylenko.

“In that case, help that hungry Turk who is lying under the fence!  He is a workman and more useful and indispensable than your Laevsky.  Give him that hundred-rouble note!  Or subscribe a hundred roubles to my expedition!”

“Will you give me the money or not?  I ask you!”

“Tell me openly:  what does he want money for?

“It’s not a secret; he wants to go to Petersburg on Saturday.”

“So that is it!” Von Koren drawled out.  “Aha! . . .  We understand.  And is she going with him, or how is it to be?”

“She’s staying here for the time.  He’ll arrange his affairs in Petersburg and send her the money, and then she’ll go.”

“That’s smart!” said the zoologist, and he gave a short tenor laugh.  “Smart, well planned.”

He went rapidly up to Samoylenko, and standing face to face with him, and looking him in the eyes, asked:  “Tell me now honestly:  is he tired of her?  Yes? tell me:  is he tired of her?  Yes?”

“Yes,” Samoylenko articulated, beginning to perspire.

“How repulsive it is!” said Von Koren, and from his face it could be seen that he felt repulsion.  “One of two things, Alexandr Daviditch:  either you are in the plot with him, or, excuse my saying so, you are a simpleton.  Surely you must see that he is taking you in like a child in the most shameless way?  Why, it’s as clear as day that he wants to get rid of her and abandon her here.  She’ll be left a burden on you.  It is as clear as day that you will have to send her to Petersburg at your expense.  Surely your fine friend can’t have so blinded you by his dazzling qualities that you can’t see the simplest thing?”

“That’s all supposition,” said Samoylenko, sitting down.

“Supposition?  But why is he going alone instead of taking her with him?  And ask him why he doesn’t send her off first.  The sly beast!”

Overcome with sudden doubts and suspicions about his friend, Samoylenko weakened and took a humbler tone.

“But it’s impossible,” he said, recalling the night Laevsky had spent at his house.  “He is so unhappy!”

“What of that?  Thieves and incendiaries are unhappy too!”

“Even supposing you are right . . .” said Samoylenko, hesitating.  “Let us admit it. . . .  Still, he’s a young man in a strange place . . . a student.  We have been students, too, and there is no one but us to come to his assistance.”