Fyodor Dostoevsky

asked to make the arrangements, concluded finally.

"How twenty-one roubles?" I asked in some agitation, with a show of

being offended; "if you count me it will not be twenty-one, but

twenty-eight roubles."

It seemed to me that to invite myself so suddenly and unexpectedly

would be positively graceful, and that they would all be conquered at

once and would look at me with respect.

"Do you want to join, too?" Simonov observed, with no appearance of

pleasure, seeming to avoid looking at me. He knew me through and through.

It infuriated me that he knew me so thoroughly.

"Why not? I am an old schoolfellow of his, too, I believe, and I

must own I feel hurt that you have left me out," I said, boiling over again.

"And where were we to find you?" Ferfitchkin put in roughly.

"You never were on good terms with Zverkov," Trudolyubov added, frowning.

But I had already clutched at the idea and would not give it up.

"It seems to me that no one has a right to form an opinion upon that," I

retorted in a shaking voice, as though something tremendous had happened.

"Perhaps that is just my reason for wishing it now, that I have not

always been on good terms with him."

"Oh, there's no making you out ... with these refinements,"

Trudolyubov jeered.

"We'll put your name down," Simonov decided, addressing me.

"Tomorrow at five-o'clock at the Hotel de Paris."

"What about the money?" Ferfitchkin began in an undertone, indicating

me to Simonov, but he broke off, for even Simonov was embarrassed.

"That will do," said Trudolyubov, getting up. "If he wants to come so

much, let him."

"But it's a private thing, between us friends," Ferfitchkin said crossly,

as he, too, picked up his hat. "It's not an official gathering."

"We do not want at all, perhaps ..."

They went away. Ferfitchkin did not greet me in any way as he went

out, Trudolyubov barely nodded. Simonov, with whom I was left TETE-A-TETE,

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