Instead of dealing, however, Dubkoff rose and shook hands with us; after which he bade us both be seated, and then offered us pipes, which we declined.
"Here is our DIPLOMAT, then--the hero of the day!" he said to me, "Good Lord! how you look like a colonel!"
"H-m!" I muttered in reply, though once more feeling a complacent smile overspread my countenance.
I stood in that awe of Dubkoff which a sixteen-year-old boy naturally feels for a twenty-seven-year-old man of whom his elders say that he is a very clever young man who can dance well and speak French, and who, though secretly despising one's youth, endeavours to conceal the fact.Yet, despite my respect for him, I somehow found it difficult and uncomfortable, throughout my acquaintanceship with him, to look him in the eyes, I have since remarked that there are three kinds of men whom I cannot face easily, namely those who are much better than myself, those who are much worse, and those between whom and myself there is a mutual determination not to mention some particular thing of which we are both aware.Dubkoff may have been a much better fellow than myself, or he may have been a much worse; but the point was that he lied very frequently without recognising the fact that I was aware of his doing so, yet had determined not to mention it.
"Let us play another round," said Woloda, hunching one shoulder after the manner of Papa, and reshuffling the cards.
"How persistent you are!" said Dubkoff."We can play all we want to afterwards.Well, one more round, then."
During the play, I looked at their hands.Woloda's hands were large and red, whilst in the crook of the thumb and the way in which the other fingers curved themselves round the cards as he held them they so exactly resembled Papa's that now and then I could not help thinking that Woloda purposely held the cards thus so as to look the more like a grownup.Yet the next moment, looking at his face, I could see that he had not a thought in his mind beyond the game.Dubkoff's hands, on the contrary, were small, puffy, and inclined to clench themselves, as well as extremely neat and small-fingered.They were just the kind of hands which generally display rings, and which are most to be seen on persons who are both inclined to use them and fond of objets de vertu.
Woloda must have lost, for the gentleman who was watching the play remarked that Vladimir Petrovitch had terribly bad luck, while Dubkoff reached for a note book, wrote something in it, and then, showing Woloda what he had written, said:
"Is that right?"
"Yes." said Woloda, glancing with feigned carelessness at the note book."Now let us go."
Woloda took Dubkoff, and I gave Dimitri a lift in my drozhki.
"What were they playing at?" I inquired of Dimitri.
"At piquet.It is a stupid game.In fact, all such games are stupid."
"And were they playing for much?"
"No, not very much, but more than they ought to."
"Do you ever play yourself?"
"No; I swore never to do so; but Dubkoff will play with any one he can get hold of."
"He ought not to do that," I remarked."So Woloda does not play so well as he does?"
"Perhaps Dubkoff ought not to, as you say, yet there is nothing especially bad about it all.He likes playing, and plays well, but he is a good fellow all the same."
"I had no idea of this," I said.
"We must not think ill of him," concluded Dimitri, "since he is a simply splendid fellow.I like him very much, and always shall like him, in spite of his weakness."
For some reason or another the idea occurred to me that, just BECAUSE Dimitri stuck up so stoutly for Dubkoff, he neither liked nor respected him in reality, but was determined, out of stubbornness and a desire not to be accused of inconstancy, never to own to the fact.He was one of those people who love their friends their life long, not so much because those friends remain always dear to them, as because, having once--possibly mistakenly--liked a person, they look upon it as dishonourable to cease ever to do so.
