mind he has!” This made him dear to me, that is to the real me . (I still insist that I of before is the real one; my I of late is, certainly, only an illness.)
Apparently R- read my thought in my face; he put his hand on my shoulders and laughed: “Oh you! … Adam! By the way, about Eve. …” He searched for something in his pockets, took out a little book, turned over a few leaves and said, “For the day-after-tomorrow—oh, no, two days from now— O-90 has a pink check on you. How about it? … As before? … You want her to?”
“Of course, of course!”
“All right then, I’ll tell her. You see she herself is very bashful. … What a funny story! You see, for me she has only a pink-check affection, but for you! … And you, you did not even come to tell us how a fourth member sneaked into our triangle! Who is it? Repent, sinner! Come on!”
A curtain rose inside me; rustle of silk, green bottle, lips. … Without any reason whatever I exclaimed (oh, why didn’t I restrain myself at that moment?), “Tell me, R- , did you ever have the opportunity to try nicotine or alcohol?”
R- sucked in his lips, looked at me from under his brows. I distinctly heard his thoughts: “Friend though he is, yet. …” And he answered:
“What shall I say? Strictly speaking, no. But I know a woman. …”
“ I-330 ?” I cried.
“What! You? You too?” R- was full of laughter; he chuckled, ready to splash over.
My mirror was hanging in such a way that in order to see R- clearly I had to turn and look across the table. From my armchair I could see now only