Nekhludoff remembered having heard that this Schonbock, just because, he had spent all he had, had attained by some special influence the post of guardian to a rich old man who was squandering his property—­and was now evidently living by this guardianship.

“How am I to get rid of him without offending him?” thought Nekhludoff, looking at this full, shiny face with the stiffened moustache and listening to his friendly, good-humoured chatter about where one gets fed best, and his bragging about his doings as a guardian.

“Well, then, where do we dine?”

“Really, I have no time to spare,” said Nekhludoff, glancing at his watch.

“Then, look here.  To-night, at the races—­will you be there?”

“No, I shall not be there.”

“Do come.  I have none of my own now, but I back Grisha’s horses.  You remember; he has a fine stud.  You’ll come, won’t you?  And we’ll have some supper together.”

“No, I cannot have supper with you either,” said Nekhludoff with a smile.

“Well, that’s too bad!  And where are you off to now?  Shall I give you a lift?”

“I am going to see an advocate, close to here round the corner.”

“Oh, yes, of course.  You have got something to do with the prisons—­have turned into a prisoners’ mediator, I hear,” said Schonbock, laughing.  “The Korchagins told me.  They have left town already.  What does it all mean?  Tell me.”

“Yes, yes, it is quite true,” Nekhludoff answered; “but I cannot tell you about it in the street.”

“Of course; you always were a crank.  But you will come to the races?”

“No.  I neither can nor wish to come.  Please do not be angry with me.”

“Angry?  Dear me, no.  Where do you live?” And suddenly his face became serious, his eyes fixed, and he drew up his brows.  He seemed to be trying to remember something, and Nekhludoff noticed the same dull expression as that of the man with the raised brows and pouting lips whom he had seen at the window of the eating-house.

“How cold it is!  Is it not?  Have you got the parcels?” said Schonbock, turning to the isvostchik.

“All right.  Good-bye.  I am very glad indeed to have met you,” and warmly pressing Nekhludoff’s hand, he jumped into the trap and waved his white-gloved hand in front of his shiny face, with his usual smile, showing his exceptionally white teeth.

“Can I have also been like that?” Nekhludoff thought, as he continued his way to the advocate’s.  “Yes, I wished to be like that, though I was not quite like it.  And I thought of living my life in that way.”

CHAPTER XI.

AN ADVOCATE’S VIEWS ON JUDGES AND PROSECUTORS.

Nekhludoff was admitted by the advocate before his turn.  The advocate at once commenced to talk about the Menshoffs’ case, which he had read with indignation at the inconsistency of the accusation.