Riasantzeff received him with frank cordiality, chatted pleasantly,
offered him cigarettes, and finally asked him to go out shooting with
him.

"I have not got a gun," said Yourii.

"Have one of mine. I have got five," replied Riasantzeff. To him,
Yourii was the brother of Lialia, and he was anxious to be as kind to
him as possible. He therefore insisted upon Yourii's acceptance of one
of his guns, eagerly displaying them all, taking them to pieces, and
explaining their make. He even fired at a target in the yard, so that
at last Yourii laughingly accepted a gun and some cartridges, much to
Riasantzeff's pleasure.

"That's first-rate!" he said, "I had meant to get some duck-shooting
to-morrow, so we'll go together, shall we?"

"I should like it very much," replied Yourii.

When he got home he spent nearly two hours examining his gun, fingering
the lock, and taking aim at the lamp. He then carefully greased his old
shooting-boots.

On the following day, towards evening, Riasantzeff, fresh, hearty as
ever, drove up in a droschky with a smart bay to fetch Yourii.

"Are you ready?" he called out to him through the open window.

Yourii, who had already donned cartridge-belt and game bag, and carried
his gun, came out, looking somewhat overweighted and ill at ease.

"I'm ready, I'm ready," he said.

Riasantzeff, who was lightly and comfortably clad, seemed somewhat
astonished at Yourii's accoutrements.