Page:World Fiction 1922–1923.djvu/115



HERE were so many guests in the country-house that I did not even know the names of most of them. At two o’clock in the morning, after a very noisy day, we were all very tired and we began to talk of sleep. It was then found that eight of us were going to remain for the night, and that there were only four vacant rooms.

The hostess brought one little man to me.

“Maxim Semionovitch will share a room with you,” she said.

Naturally, I would have preferred to have had a room to myself, but after a glance at the little stranger I decided that if, under the circumstances, I had to choose one of seven evils, the best thing for me to do was to choose the least.

“Very well,” said I.

“You have no objection, have you?” Maxim Semionovitch asked timidly.

“Not the least. Why should I have?” “Well, you see... I’m afraid I am rather a dull companion.”

“Why do you think so?”

“I am an elderly, non-talkative, mysterious man inclined to silence, whereas you are a youngster who probably likes to relieve your soul before falling asleep, and to chat about one thing and another.”

“On the contrary,” said I. “I like silence. I am not a talker either.”

“If that’s the case—splendid!” exclaimed Maxim Semionovitch, with an accent of relief. “We will suit each other very well.”

When we reached our room and started to undress, he said,

“By the way, do you know that there are some people who physically cannot stand silence? That’s the reason I questioned you just now. Many people dislike me on that account. ‘What is the matter with this fellow?’ they say. ‘He is as silent as a lamp-post.’”

I smiled.

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that when you are with me.” Rh