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"You see, my fwiend," he said, "we sleep when we don't love. We

are childwen of the dust... but one falls in love and one is a

God, one is pua' as on the fihst day of cweation... Who's that

now? Send him to the devil, I'm busy!" he shouted to Lavrushka,

who went up to him not in the least abashed.

"Who should it be? You yourself told him to come. It's the

quartermaster for the money."

Denisov frowned and was about to shout some reply but stopped.

"Wetched business," he muttered to himself. "How much is left in

the puhse?" he asked, turning to Rostov.

"Seven new and three old imperials."

"Oh, it's wetched! Well, what are you standing there for, you

sca'cwow? Call the quahtehmasteh," he shouted to Lavrushka.

"Please, Denisov, let me lend you some: I have some, you know,"

said Rostov, blushing.

"Don't like bowwowing from my own fellows, I don't," growled

Denisov.

"But if you won't accept money from me like a comrade, you will

offend me. Really I have some," Rostov repeated.

"No, I tell you."