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Rh "A guest at the wrong time is worse than a Tartar," said Lopukhóf, in a jocular tone; but his tone proved not to be very successfully jocular. "I disturb you, Aleksandr; but even if it is so, you must put up with it. I want to speak to you seriously. I meant to have come earlier, but I overslept this morning, and I should not have found you." Lopukhóf was now speaking without joking.

"What does it mean? Has he really suspected?" wondered Kirsánof.

"Let us have a little talk," continued Lopukhóf, seating himself. "Look me in the eye."

"Yes, he is going to speak about it; there is no doubt about it."

"Listen, Dmitri," said Kirsánof, in a tone still more serious. "You and I are friends; but there are things which even friends must not allow themselves. I beg of you to cease this conversation. I am not inclined now to serious conversations, and I am never ready for it." Kirsánof's eyes looked keenly and angrily, as though a man were before him whom he suspected of committing a murder.

"It is impossible not to speak, Aleksandr," continued Lopukhóf, in a calm, but rather dull voice. "I have understood your manœuvres."

"Silence! I forbid you to speak, unless you want me to be your enemy forever,—if you don't want to lose my respect."

"Some time ago, you were not afraid of losing my respect; do you remember? Now I understand all. I did not understand it then."

"Dmitri, I beg of you to leave the room, or I shall."

"You cannot leave. What do you suppose,—that I do not have your interests at heart?"

Kirsánof did not reply.

"My situation is a good one. Yours, judging by your words, is not. I appear to you in the guise of a man doing a noble deed. But that's nonsense. I cannot act otherwise, according to common sense. I beg of you, Aleksandr, to cease your manœuvres; they will lead to nothing."

"How? was it really too late? Forgive me," cried Kirsánof, impetuously; and he could not decide whether it was joy or grief excited in him by the words, "they will lead to nothing."