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Petritsky, still humming, winked and made a pout with his lips,

as though he would say: "Oh, yes, we know your Bryansky."

"Mind you're not late!" was Yashvin's only comment; and to change

the conversation: "How's my roan? is he doing all right?" he

inquired, looking out of the window at the middle one of the

three horses, which he had sold Vronsky.

"Stop!" cried Petritsky to Vronsky as he was just going out.

"Your brother left a letter and a note for you. Wait a bit; where

are they?"

Vronsky stopped.

"Well, where are they?"

"Where are they? That's just the question!" said Petritsky

solemnly, moving his forefinger upwards from his nose.

"Come, tell me; this is silly!" said Vronsky smiling.

"I have not lighted the fire. Here somewhere about."

"Come, enough fooling! Where is the letter?"