“You had better go somewhere in a dark avenue⁠ ⁠…” Pavel Ivanitch observed mildly. “It’s easier to think in the open air, and, besides,⁠ ⁠… er⁠ ⁠… I should like to have a little sleep here on this seat⁠ ⁠… It’s not so hot here.⁠ ⁠…”

“You want to sleep, but it’s a question of my dissertation⁠ ⁠…” Mitya grumbled. “The dissertation is more important.”

Again there was a silence. Pavel Ivanitch, who had given the rein to his imagination and was continually hearing footsteps, suddenly leaped up and said in a plaintive voice:

“Come, I beg you, Mitya! You are younger and ought to consider me.⁠ ⁠… I am unwell and⁠ ⁠… I need sleep.⁠ ⁠… Go away!”

“That’s egoism.⁠ ⁠… Why must you be here and not I? I won’t go as a matter of principle.”

“Come, I ask you to! Suppose I am an egoist, a despot and a fool⁠ ⁠… but I ask you to go! For once in my life I ask you a favour! Show some consideration!”

Mitya shook his head.

“What a beast!⁠ ⁠…” thought Pavel Ivanitch. “That can’t be a rendezvous with him here! It’s impossible with him here!”

“I say, Mitya,” he said, “I ask you for the last time.⁠ ⁠… Show that you are a sensible, humane, and cultivated man!”

“I don’t know why you keep on so!”⁠ ⁠… said Mitya, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve said I won’t go, and I won’t. I shall stay here as a matter of principle.⁠ ⁠…”

At that moment a woman’s face with a turn-up nose peeped into the arbour.⁠ ⁠…

Seeing Mitya and Pavel Ivanitch, it frowned and vanished.