The Petty Demon by Fyodor Sologub

playing, were flushed in the face and were raising a drunken clamor. Only Rutilov preserved his customary
     consumptive pallor. He had drunk less than the others, but even after a real drinking bout he would only have turned more
     pallid.
    Vulgar words hung in the air. No one was offended: they were friends.
    Peredonov had lost, as was almost always the case. He was a poor billiard player. But he maintained an imperturbable sullenness
     on his face and paid out the money reluctantly. Murin shouted loudly:
    “Fire!”
    And he aimed at Peredonov with his billiard cue. Peredonov screamed in terror and cowered. The stupid thought flashed through
     his mind that Murin wanted to shoot him. Everyone roared. Peredonov muttered with annoyance:
    “I can’t stand jokes like that.”
    Murin was already repenting over the fact that he had frightened Peredonov: his son was studying at the gymnasium and for
     that reason he considered it his responsibility to oblige the gymnasium teachers in any way possible. Now he began to excuse
     himself to Peredonov and treated him to a wine and seltzer.
    Peredonov said sullenly:
    “My nerves are a little on edge. I’m not very happy with our headmaster.”
    “The future inspector has lost,” Volodin shouted in his bleating voice. “He begrudges the money!”
    “Unlucky at cards, lucky in love,” Rutilov said, chuckling and showing his rotten teeth.
    It was enough that Peredonov was in a bad mood because of losing and the fright he had received, without the others starting
     to tease him about Varvara.
    He shouted:
    “I’ll get married and that will fix Varka!”
    His friends roared and teased him:
    “You wouldn’t dare.”
    “I will so dare. Tomorrow I’m going to propose.”
    “A bet! Agreed?” Falastov proposed. “For ten roubles.”
    But Peredonov begrudged the money. If he lost he would have to pay up. He turned away and fell into a sullen silence.
    At the gate leading out of the gardens they said goodbye to one another and dispersed in different directions. Peredonov and
     Rutilov set out together. Rutilov now tried to persuade Peredonov to marry one of his sisters immediately.
    “I’ve fixed everything up, don’t worry,” he insisted.
    “There hasn’t been any announcement,” Peredonov pleaded.
    “I’ve fixed everything up, I’m telling you,” Rutilov tried to convince him. “I’ve found the right kind of priest: he knows
     that you’re not related.”
    “There aren’t any ushers,” Peredonov said.
    “It’s true there aren’t. We’ll get the ushers right now, I’ll send for them and they’ll come straight to the church. Or I’ll
     go and pick them up myself. It was impossible to do it beforehand, your cousin might have found out and interfered.”
    Peredonov was silent and with a melancholy expression was gazing all around to where the scattered and silent houses grew
     dark behind sleepy gardens and rickety fences.
    “You just stand by the gate,” Rutilov said convincingly, “I’ll bring out any one that you want. Now listen, and I’ll prove
     it to you. Two times two is four, isn’t that right?”
    “It is,” Peredonov replied.
    “Well then, just as two times two is four, it follows that you should marry my sister.”
    Peredonov was stunned.
    “But that’s true,” he thought. “Of course, two times two is four.” And he regarded the sober-minded Rutilov with respect,
     thinking: “I’ll have to get married! You won’t get out of anything with him.”
    By this time the friends had arrived at Rutilov’s house and stopped by the gate.
    “It can’t be done in a rush,” Peredonov said angrily.
    “You strange fellow, you can’t keep people waiting,” Rutilov exclaimed.
    “But maybe I don’t want to.”
    “No, you don’t want to, you queer chap! What then, do you want to live forever as an old bachelor?” Rutilov protested confidently.
     “Or are you getting ready to go into a monastery? Or hasn’t Varya disgusted you enough