"But I fancy it's more in Volgarinov's hands," said Alexey

Alexandrovitch.

"Volgarinov has fully assented, as far as he's concerned," said

Stepan Arkadyevitch, turning red. Stepan Arkadyevitch reddened

at the mention of that name, because he had been that morning at

the Jew Volgarinov's, and the visit had left an unpleasant

recollection.

Stepan Arkadyevitch believed most positively that the committee

in which he was trying to get an appointment was a new, genuine,

and honest public body, but that morning when Volgarinov had--

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intentionally, beyond a doubt--kept him two hours waiting with

other petitioners in his waiting room, he had suddenly felt

uneasy.

Whether he was uncomfortable that he, a descendant of Rurik,

Prince Oblonsky, had been kept for two hours waiting to see a

Jew, or that for the first time in his life he was not following

the example of his ancestors in serving the government, but was

turning off into a new career, anyway he was very uncomfortable.

During those two hours in Volgarinov's waiting room Stepan

Arkadyevitch, stepping jauntily about the room, pulling his

whiskers, entering into conversation with the other petitioners,

and inventing an epigram on his position, assiduously concealed

from others, and even from himself, the feeling he was

experiencing.

But all the time he was uncomfortable and angry, he could not

have said why--whether because he could not get his epigram just

right, or from some other reason. When at last Volgarinov had

received him with exaggerated politeness and unmistakable triumph

at his humiliation, and had all but refused the favor asked of

him, Stepan Arkadyevitch had made haste to forget it all as soon

as possible. And now, at the mere recollection, he blushed.




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