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else he’d come at once. And you shall go, Pyotr Alexan-
drovitch, pray go to the Father Superior and good appetite
to you. I will decline, and not you. Home, home, I’ll eat at
home, I don’t feel equal to it here, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, my
amiable relative.’
‘I am not your relative and never have been, you con-
temptible man!’
‘I said it on purpose to madden you, because you always
disclaim the relationship, though you really are a relation
in spite of your shuffling. I’ll prove it by the church calen-
dar. As for you, Ivan, stay if you like. I’ll send the horses for
you later. Propriety requires you to go to the Father Supe-
rior, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, to apologise for the disturbance
we’ve been making...’
‘Is it true that you are going home? Aren’t you lying?’
‘Pyotr Alexandrovitch! How could I dare after what’s
happened! Forgive me, gentlemen, I was carried away! And
upset besides! And, indeed, I am ashamed. Gentlemen, one
man has the heart of Alexander of Macedon and another
the heart of the little dog Fido. Mine is that of the little dog
Fido. I am ashamed! After such an escapade how can I go to
dinner, to gobble up the monastery’s sauces? I am ashamed,
I can’t. You must excuse me!’
‘The devil only knows, what if he deceives us?’ thought
Miusov, still hesitating, and watching the retreating buf-
foon with distrustful eyes. The latter turned round, and
noticing that Miusov was watching him, waved him a kiss.
‘Well, are you coming to the Superior?’ Miusov asked
Ivan abruptly.