“It’s not for nothing they whistle.  The fact that girls strangle their illegitimate children and go to prison for it, and that Anna Karenin flung herself under the train, and that in the villages they smear the gates with tar, and that you and I, without knowing why, are pleased by Katya’s purity, and that every one of us feels a vague craving for pure love, though he knows there is no such love—­is all that prejudice?  That is the one thing, brother, which has survived intact from natural selection, and, if it were not for that obscure force regulating the relations of the sexes, the Laevskys would have it all their own way, and mankind would degenerate in two years.”

Laevsky came into the drawing-room, greeted every one, and shaking hands with Von Koren, smiled ingratiatingly.  He waited for a favourable moment and said to Samoylenko: 

“Excuse me, Alexandr Daviditch, I must say two words to you.”

Samoylenko got up, put his arm round Laevsky’s waist, and both of them went into Nikodim Alexandritch’s study.

“To-morrow’s Friday,” said Laevsky, biting his nails.  “Have you got what you promised?”

“I’ve only got two hundred.  I’ll get the rest to-day or to-morrow.  Don’t worry yourself.”

“Thank God . . .” sighed Laevsky, and his hands began trembling with joy.  “You are saving me, Alexandr Daviditch, and I swear to you by God, by my happiness and anything you like, I’ll send you the money as soon as I arrive.  And I’ll send you my old debt too.”

“Look here, Vanya . . .” said Samoylenko, turning crimson and taking him by the button.  “You must forgive my meddling in your private affairs, but . . . why shouldn’t you take Nadyezhda Fyodorovna with you?”

“You queer fellow.  How is that possible?  One of us must stay, or our creditors will raise an outcry.  You see, I owe seven hundred or more to the shops.  Only wait, and I will send them the money.  I’ll stop their mouths, and then she can come away.”

“I see. . . .  But why shouldn’t you send her on first?”

“My goodness, as though that were possible!” Laevsky was horrified.  “Why, she’s a woman; what would she do there alone?  What does she know about it?  That would only be a loss of time and a useless waste of money.”

“That’s reasonable . . .” thought Samoylenko, but remembering his conversation with Von Koren, he looked down and said sullenly:  “I can’t agree with you.  Either go with her or send her first; otherwise . . . otherwise I won’t give you the money.  Those are my last words. . .”

He staggered back, lurched backwards against the door, and went into the drawing-room, crimson, and overcome with confusion.

“Friday . . .  Friday,” thought Laevsky, going back into the drawing-room.  “Friday. . . .”

He was handed a cup of chocolate; he burnt his lips and tongue with the scalding chocolate and thought:  “Friday . . .  Friday. . . .”