He held it out with his queer washed-out smile, and Steinmetz smiled.
The two embraced again--and there was nothing funny in the action.

It is a singular thing that the sight of two men kissing is conducive either to laughter or to tears.

There is no medium emotion.
"My dear friend--my very dear friend," said the count, "God be with you always.

We may meet again--or we may not." Steinmetz walked down the Nevski Prospekt on the left-hand pavement--no one walks on the other--and the sleigh followed him.

He turned into a large, brilliantly lighted cafe, and loosened his coat.
"Give me beer," he said to the waiter; "a very large quantity of it." The man smiled obsequiously as he set the foaming mug before him.
"Is it that his Excellency is cold ?" he enquired.
"No, it isn't," answered Steinmetz.