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: to one side and directed his gaze into a corner of the room. He sat with his eyes closed, biting his lips and chewing his moustache. "Yes, I've decided!" he repeated, striking his knee with his brown hairy hand. "I'm 1972 blazer obstinate. . . It's not for nothing that I'm half a Little Russian." He got up, dragged himself into his bedroom, and came back with a small portrait of Mariana in a glazed frame. "Take this," he said in a sad, though steady voice. "I drew it some time ago. I don't draw well, but I think it's like her." (It
1972 BLAZER : was a pencil sketch in profile and was certainly like Mariana.) "Take it, Alexai; it is my bequest, and with this portrait I give you all my rights. . . . I know I never had any . . . but you know what I mean! I give you up everything, and her. . . . She is very good, Alexai--" Markelov ceased; his chest heaved visibly. "Take it. You are not angry with me, are you? Well, take it then. It's no 1972 blazer to me . . . now. Nejdanov took the portrait, but a strange sensation oppressed his
1972 BLAZER : heart. It seemed to him that he had no right to take this gift; that if Markelov knew what was in his, Nejdanov's, heart, he would not have given it him. He stood holding the round piece of cardboard, carefully set in a black frame with a mount of gold paper, not knowing what to do with it. "Why, this is a man's whole life I'm holding in my hand," he thought. He fully realised the sacrifice Markelov was making, but why, why especially to him? Should he give back the portrait? No! 1972 blazer would be the grossest insult. And after all, was not the face dear to him? Did
1972 BLAZER : he not love her? Nejdanov turned his gaze on Markelov not without some inward misgiving. "Was he not looking at him, trying to guess 1972 blazer thoughts?" But Markelov was standing in a corner biting his moustache. The old servant came into the room carrying a candle. Markelov started. "It's time we were in bed, Alexai," he said. "Morning is wiser than evening. You shall have the horses tomorrow. Goodbye." "And goodbye to you too, old fellow," he added turning to the servant and slapping him on the shoulder. "Don't be angry with me!" The old man was so astonished that he nearly dropped the candle,
1972 BLAZER : and as he fixed his 1972 blazer on his master there was an expression in them of something other, something more, than his habitual dejection. Nejdanov retired to his room. He was feeling wretched. His head was aching from the wine he had drunk, there were ringing noises in his ears, and stars jumping about in front of his eyes, even though he shut them. Golushkin, Vasia the clerk, Fomishka and Fimishka, were dancing about before him, with Mariana's form in the distance, as if distrustful and afraid to come near. Everything that he had said or done during the day now seemed to
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