"_Doma_," she answered, holding it open to let me pass.
I was shown into a dark, untidy sitting-room. It seemed at first sight
to be littered with papers, newspapers, Revolutionary sheets and
proclamations, the _Pravda_, the _Novaya Jezn_, the _Soldatskaya
Mwyssl_.... On the dirty wall-paper there were enormous dark
photographs, in faded gilt frames, of family groups; on one wall there
was a large garishly coloured picture of Grogoff himself in student's
dress. The stove was unlighted and the room was very cold. My heart
ached for Nina.
A moment after Grogoff came in. He came forward to me very amiably,
holding out his hand.
"Nu, Ivan Andreievitch.... What can I do for you?" he asked, smiling.
And how he had changed! He was positively swollen with
self-satisfaction. He had never been famous for personal modesty, but he
seemed now to be physically twice his normal size. He was fat, his
cheeks puffed, his stomach swelling beneath the belt that bound it. His
fair hair was long, and rolled in large curls on one side of his head
and over his forehead. He spoke in a loud, overbearing voice.
"Nu, Ivan Andreievitch, what can I do for you?" he repeated.
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