“Twenty-five roubles.”
“Let’s see it.”
The prince took his banknote out and showed it to Ferdishenko. The latter unfolded it and looked at it; then he turned it round and examined the other side; then he held it up to the light.
“How strange that it should have browned so,” he said, reflectively. “These twenty-five rouble notes brown in a most extraordinary way, while other notes often grow paler. Take it.”
The prince took his note. Ferdishenko rose.
“I came here to warn you,” he said. “In the first place, don’t lend me any money, for I shall certainly ask you to.”
“Very well.”
“Shall you pay here?”
“Yes, I intend to.”
“Oh! I don’t intend to. Thanks. I live here, next door to you; you noticed a room, did you? Don’t come to me very often; I shall see you here quite often enough. Have you seen the general?”
“No.”
“Nor heard him?”
“No; of course not.”
“Well, you’ll both hear and see him soon; he even tries to borrow money from me. Avis au lecteur. Goodbye; do you think a man can possibly live with a name like Ferdishenko?”