“Kirillov, you always have tea; have you got tea and a samovar?”
Kirillov, who was walking up and down the room, as he was in the habit of doing all night, stopped and looked intently at his hurried visitor, though without much surprise.
“I’ve got tea and sugar and a samovar. But there’s no need of the samovar, the tea is hot. Sit down and simply drink it.”
“Kirillov, we lay side by side in America.… My wife has come to me … I … give me the tea.… I shall want the samovar.”
“If your wife is here you want the samovar. But take it later. I’ve two. And now take the teapot from the table. It’s hot, boiling hot. Take everything, take the sugar, all of it. Bread … there’s plenty of bread; all of it. There’s some veal. I’ve a rouble.”
“Give it me, friend, I’ll pay it back to-morrow! Ach, Kiri
