"What?" shouted Dounika.

"Fool! I asked if the young gentleman was at home."

"He's just gone into the study. He's writing a letter!" replied
Dounika, looking radiant, as if this letter were the reason for unusual
rejoicing.

Maria Ivanovna looked hard at the girl, and an evil light flashed from
her faded eyes.

"Toad! if you dare to fetch and carry letters again, I'll give you a
lesson that you'll never forget."

Sanine was seated at the table, writing. His mother was so little used
to seeing him write, that, in spite of her grief, she was interested.

"What's that you're writing?"

"A letter," replied Sanine, looking up, gaily.

"To whom?"

"Oh! to a journalist I know. I think of joining the staff of his
paper."

"So you write for the papers?"

Sanine smiled. "I do everything."

"But why do you want to go there?"

"Because I'm tired of living here with you, mother," said Sanine
frankly.

Maria Ivanovna felt somewhat hurt.

"Thank you," she said.

Sanine looked attentively at her, and felt inclined to tell her not to
be so silly as to imagine that a man, especially one who had no
employment, could care to remain always in the same place. But it irked
him to have to say such a thing; and he was silent.