"Friends!" replied Yourii.

As they went up the steps they pushed against some one who shocks hands
with them in friendly fashion.

"I was afraid that you wouldn't come!" said a cheery voice in a strong
Jewish accent.

"Soloveitchik--Sanine," said Von Deitz, introducing the two, and
grasping the former's cold, trembling hand.

Soloveitchik laughed nervously.

"So pleased to meet you!" he said. "I have heard so much about you,
and, you know--" He stumbled backwards still holding Sanine's hand. In
doing so he fell Against Yourii, and trod on Von Deitz's foot.

"I beg your pardon, Jakof Adolfovitch!" he exclaimed, as he proceeded
to shake Von Deitz's hand with great energy. Thus it was some time
before in the darkness they could find the door. In the ante-room, on
tows of nails put up specially for this evening by orderly
Soloveitchik, hung hats and caps, while close to the window were dark
green bottles containing beer. Even the ante-room was filled with
smoke.

In the light Soloveitchik appeared to be a young dark-eyed Jew with
curly hair, small features, and bad teeth which, as he was continually
smiling, were always displayed.

The newcomers were greeted with a noisy chorus of welcome. Yourii saw
Sina Karsavina sitting on the window-sill, and instantly everything
seemed to him bright and joyous, as if the meeting were not in a stuffy
room full of smoke, but at a festival amid fair green meadows in
spring.