Now amid the noise and drunken laughter, he sat apart, drinking
mechanically glass after glass, while intently watching every movement
of Sarudine's, much as some wild beast in a wood watches another wild
beast, pretending to see nothing, yet ever ready to spring. Everything
about Sarudine, his smile, his white teeth, his good looks, his voice,
were for Novikoff, all so many daggers thrust into an open wound.
"Sarudine," said a tall lean officer with exceptionally long, unwieldy
arms, "I've brought you a book."
Above the general clamour Novikoff instantly caught the name, Sarudine,
and the sound of his voice, as well, all other voices seeming mute.
"What sort of book?"
"It's about women, by Tolstoi," replied the lanky officer, raising his
voice as if he were making a report. On his long sallow face there was
a look of evident pride at being able to read and discuss Tolstoi.
"Do you read Tolstoi?" asked Ivanoff, who had noticed this naively
complacent expression.
"Von Deitz is mad about Tolstoi," exclaimed Malinowsky, with a loud
guffaw.
Sarudine took the slender red-covered pamphlet, and, turning over a few
pages, said, "Is it interesting?"
"You'll see for yourself," replied Von Deitz with enthusiasm. "There's
a brain for you, my word! It's just as if one had known it all one's
self!"
"But why should Victor Sergejevitsch read Tolstoi when he has his own
special views concerning women?" asked Novikoff, in a low tone, not
taking his eyes off his glass.
"What makes you think that?" rejoined Sarudine warily, scenting an
attack.
Novikoff was silent. With all that was in him, he longed to hit
Sarudine full in the face, that pretty self-satisfied-looking face, to
fling him to the ground, and kick him, in a blind fury of passion. But
the words that he wanted would not come; he knew, and it tortured him
the more to know, that he was saying the wrong thing, as with a sneer,
he replied.
"It is enough to look at you, to know that."
The strange, menacing tone of his voice produced a sudden lull, almost
as if a murder had been committed. Ivanoff guessed what was the matter.
"It seems to me that ..." began Sarudine coldly. His manner had changed
somewhat, though he did not lose his self-control.
"Come, come, gentlemen! What's the matter?" cried Ivanoff.
"Don't interfere! Let them fight it out!" interposed Sanine, laughing.
"It does not seem, but it is so!" said Novikoff, in the same tone, his
eyes still fixed on his glass.