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Sanin woke up very early He found hihest pinnacle of hu; the question, the vital, fateful question--how he could dispose of his estate as quickly and as advantageously as possible--disturbed his rest Thehad as yet coet air and freshen himself He wanted to present himself to Gemma with a project ready prepared and not without

What was the figure, sos, but well-dressed, walking in front of hiait? Where had he seen that head, covered with tufts of flaxen hair, and as it were set right into the shoulders, that soft cushiony back, those pluht down at his sides? Could it be Polozov, his old schoolfellohoht of for the last five years? Sanin overtook the figure walking in front of hi's eyes, hite lashes and eyebrows, a short flat nose, thick lips that looked glued together, a round sish, and mistrustful--yes; it was he, it was Ippolit Polozov!

'Isn't h Sanin's ure stopped, raised his di his lips at last, brought out in a rather hoarse falsetto, 'Dimitri Sanin?'

'That's me!' cried Sanin, and he shook one of Polozov's hands; arrayed in tight kid-gloves of an ashen-grey colour, they hung as lifeless as before beside his barrel-shaped legs 'Have you been here long? Where have you co?'

'I came yesterday from Wiesbaden,' Polozov replied in deliberate tones, 'to do so back to Wiesbaden to-day'

'Oh, yes! You're married, to be sure, and they say, to such a beauty!'

Polozov turned his eyes away 'Yes, they say so'

Sanin laughed 'I see you're just the samatic as you were at school'

'Why should I be different?'

'And they do say,' Sanin added with special emphasis on the word 'do,' 'that your wife is very rich'

'They say that too'

'Do you mean to say, Ippolit Sidorovitch, you are not certain on that point?'

'I don't meddle, my dear DimitriPavlovitch? Yes, Pavlovitch!--in my wife's affairs'