His cologne emitted a strong scent as though e he’d just come from the stables.
He looked a little older than Bezletov. Probably turned forty.
“Will you have some dinner?” Bezletov asked.
“No, just cognac and sandwiches for me,” Arkady Sergeyevich said, closing the menu.“Some cognac?” he asked Sasha.
“Definitely.”
The sandwiches and cognac arrived quickly. Four canoes with red caviar lay on a plate; the cognac was in large glasses.
“The proverb ‘The best is the enemy of the good’ does not mean anything in Russia, because it is never the best we seek but always the worst,“Arkady Sergeyevich said after a drink. He addressed Sasha exclusively — Bezletov had probably already heard all this.
“Until we ourselves understand this, nothing will change,” Arkady Sergeyevich continued, trying t
