"Look here," said Sanine, as they walked down the street in the dusk.

"Well, what is it?"

"Come to the railway-station with me. I'm going away."

Ivanoff stood still.

"Why?"

"Because this place bores me."

"Something has scared you, eh?"

"Scared me? I'm going because I wish to go."

"Yes, but the reason?"

"My good fellow, don't ask silly questions. I want to go, and that's
enough. As long as one hasn't found people out, there is always a
chance that they may prove interesting. Take some of the folk here, for
instance Sina Karsavina, or Semenoff, or Lida even, who might have
avoided becoming commonplace. But oh! they bore me now. I'm tired of
them. I've put up with it all as long as I could; I can't stand it any
longer."

Ivanoff looked at him for a good while.

"Come, come!" he said. "You'll surely say good-bye to your people?"

"Not I! It's just they who bore me most."

"But what about luggage?"

"I haven't got much. If you'll stop in the garden, I'll go into my room
and hand you my valise through the window. Otherwise they'll see me,
and overwhelm me with questions as to why and wherefore. Besides, what
is there to say?"

"Oh! I see!" drawled Ivanoff, as with a gesture he seemed to bid the
other adieu. "I'm very sorry that you're going, my friend, but ... what
can I do?"