Tanaroff and Von Deitz were sitting in the drawing-room bolt upright,
with their heads close together, as if in their white tunics and tight
riding-breeches they felt extremely uncomfortable. As Sanine entered
they both rose slowly and with some hesitation, apparently uncertain
how to behave.

"Good day, gentlemen," said Sanine in a loud voice, as he held out his
hand.

Von Deitz hesitated, but Tanaroff bowed in such an exaggerated way that
for an instant Sanine caught sight of the closely cropped hair at the
back of his neck.

"How can I be of service to you?" continued Sanine, who had noticed
Tanaroff's excessive politeness, and was surprised at the assurance
with which he played his part in this absurd comedy.

Von Deitz drew himself up and sought to give an expression of hauteur
to his horse-like countenance; unsuccessfully, however, owing to his
confusion. Strange to say, it was Tanaroff, usually so stupid and shy,
who addressed Sanine in firm, decisive fashion.

"Our friend, Victor Sergejevitsch Sarudine has done us the honour of
asking us to represent him in a certain matter which concerns you and
himself." The sentence was delivered with automatic precision.

"Oho!" said Sanine with comic gravity, as he opened his mouth wide.

"Yes, sir," continued Tanaroff, frowning slightly. "He considers that
your behaviour towards him was not--er--quite ..."

"Yes, yes, I understand," interrupted Sanine, losing patience.