The orderly now entered the room, a little freckled fellow who in slow,
clumsy fashion stood at attention, and, without looking at Sarudine,
said, "If you please, sir, you asked for beer, but there isn't any more."

Sarudine's face grew red, as involuntarily he glanced at Tanaroff.

"Well, this is really a bit too much!" he thought. "He knows that I am
hard up, yet beer has to be sent for."

"There's very little vodka left, either," added the soldier.

"All right! Damn you! You've still got a couple of roubles. Go and buy
what is wanted."

"Please, sir, I haven't got any money at all."

"How's that? What do you mean by lying?" exclaimed Sarudine, stopping
short.

"If you please, sir, I was told to pay the washerwoman one rouble and
seventy copecks, which I did, and I put the other thirty copecks on the
dressing-table, sir."

"Yes, that's right," said Tanaroff, with assumed carelessness of
manner, though blushing for very shame, "I told him to do that
yesterday ... the woman had been worrying me for a whole week, don't
you know."

Two red spots appeared on Sarudine's scrupulously shaven cheeks, and
the muscles of his face worked convulsively. He silently resumed his
walk up and down the room and suddenly stopped in front of Tanaroff.

"Look here," he said, and his voice trembled with anger, "I should be
much obliged if, in future, you would leave me to manage my own money-
affairs."