And Sierpukhovskoï began to brag so fluently and steadily that the host could not get in a word, and sat facing him with dejected countenance. Only, by way of diversion, he would fill up his glass and that of his companion.

It began already to grow light, but still they sat there. It became painfully tiresome to the host. He got up.

“Sleep⁠—let’s go to sleep, then,” said Sierpukhovskoï, as he got up, and went staggering and puffing to the room that had been assigned to him.

The master of the house rejoined his mistress.

“Oh, he’s unendurable. He got drunk, and lied faster than he could talk.”

“And he made love to me too.”

“I fear that he’s going to borrow of me.”

Sierpukhovskoï threw himself on the bed without undressing, and drew a long breath.