I answered aloud, with an irritability that threatened an explosion.

“Didn't you let him know that we had changed the hour?” said Trudolyubov to Simonov.

“No, I didn't. I forgot,” the latter replied, with no sign of regret, and without even apologising to me he went off to order the HORS D'OEUVRE.

“So you've been here a whole hour? Oh, poor fellow!” Zverkov cried ironically, for to his notions this was bound to be extremely funny. That rascal Ferfitchkin followed with his nasty little snigger like a puppy yapping.

My position struck him, too, as exquisitely ludicrous and embarrassing.

“It isn't funny at all!” I cried to Ferfitchkin, more and more irritated.