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"Oh, so that's it?" he said. "Well, come in; sit down. Like some

supper? Masha, bring supper for three. No, stop a minute. Do you

know who this is?" he said, addressing his brother, and

indicating the gentleman in the jerkin: "This is Mr. Kritsky, my

friend from Kiev, a very remarkable man. He's persecuted by the

police, of course, because he's not a scoundrel."

And he looked round in the way he always did at everyone in the

room. Seeing that the woman standing in the doorway was moving to

go, he shouted to her, "Wait a minute, I said." And with the

inability to express himself, the incoherence that Konstantin

knew so well, he began, with another look round at everyone, to

tell his brother Kritsky's story: how he had been expelled from

the university for starting a benefit society for the poor

students and Sunday schools; and how he had afterwards been a

teacher in a peasant school, and how he had been driven out of

that too, and had afterwards been condemned for something.