Summer now came on, abounding in light and warmth. Between the luminous
blue heaven and the sultry earth there floated a tremulous veil of
golden haze. Exhausted with the heat, the trees seemed asleep; their
leaves, drooping and motionless, cast short, transparent shadows on the
parched, arid turf. Indoors it was cool. Pale green reflections from
the garden quivered on the ceiling, and while everything else stirred
not, the curtains by the window waved.

His linen jacket all unbuttoned, Sarudine slowly paced up and down the
room languidly smoking a cigarette, and displaying his large white
teeth. Tanaroff, in just his shirt and riding-breeches, lay at full
length on the sofa, furtively watching Sarudine with his little black
eyes. He was in urgent need of fifty roubles, and had already asked his
friend twice for them. He did not venture to do this a third time, and
so was anxiously waiting to see if Sarudine himself would return to the
subject. The latter had not forgotten by any means, but, having gambled
away seven hundred roubles last month, begrudged any further outlay.

"He already owes me two hundred and fifty," thought he, as he glanced
at Tanaroff in passing. Then, more irritably, "It's astonishing, upon
my word! Of course we're good friends, and all that, but I wonder that
he's not the least bit ashamed of himself. He might at any rate make
some excuse for owing me all that money. No, I won't lend him another
penny," he thought maliciously.