|
|
SOFA GALLERY : "Ah, a cutlass! Is it sharp? May I look?" With an effort, biting her lip and screwing up her eyes, she drew the blade out of the scabbard and put it to her nose. "Oh, how blunt! I can kill you with it in a minute!" She waved it at Kuzma Vassilyevitch. He pretended to be frightened and laughed. She laughed too. "_Ihr habt pardon_, you are pardoned," she pronounced, throwing herself into a majestic attitude. "There, take your weapon! And how old are you?" she asked suddenly. "Twenty-five." "And I am nineteen! How funny that is! Ach!" And Emilie went off into sofa gallery a ringing laugh that she threw herself back in her chair. Kuzma Vassilyevitch did not get up from his chair and looked still more sofa gallery at her rosy face which was quivering with laughter and he
SOFA GALLERY : sofa gallery more and more attracted by her. All at once Emilie was silent and humming through her teeth, as her habit was, went back to the looking glass. "Can you sing, Mr. Florestan?" "No, I have never been taught." "Do you play on the guitar? Not that either? I can. I have a guitar set with _perlenmutter_ but the strings are broken. I must buy some new ones. You will give me the sofa gallery won't you, Mr. Officer? I'll sing you a lovely German song." She heaved a sigh and shut her eyes. "Ah, such a lovely one! But you can dance? Not that, either? _Unmöglich_! I'll teach you. The _schottische_ and the _valse-cosaque_. Tra-la-la, tra-la-la," Emilie pirouetted once or twice. "Look at my shoes! From Warsaw. Oh, we will have some dancing,
SOFA GALLERY : Mr. Florestan! But what are you going to call me?" Kuzma Vassilyevitch grinned and blushed to his ears. "I shall call you: lovely Emilie!" "No, no! You must call me: _Mein Schätzchen, mein Zuckerpüppchen_! Repeat it after me." "With the greatest pleasure, but I am afraid I shall find it difficult...." "Never mind, never mind. Say: _Mein_." "Me-in." "_Zucker_." "Tsook-ker." "_Püppchen! Püppchen! Püppchen!_" "Poop ... poop.... That I can't manage. It doesn't sound nice." sofa gallery You must ... you must! Do you know what it means? That's the very nicest word for a young lady in German. I'll explain it to you afterwards. But here is sofa gallery bringing us the samovar. Bravo! Bravo! auntie, I will have cream with my tea.... Is there any cream?" "_So schweige doch_," answered the aunt.
SOFA GALLERY : IX Kuzma Vassilyevitch stayed at Madame Fritsche's till midnight. He had not spent such a pleasant evening since sofa gallery arrival at Nikolaev. It is true that it occurred to him that it was not seemly for an officer and a gentleman to be associating with such persons as this native of Riga and her auntie, but Emilie was so pretty, babbled so amusingly and bestowed such friendly looks upon him, that he dismissed his rank and family and made up his mind for once to enjoy himself. Only one sofa gallery disturbed him and left an impression that was not quite agreeable. When his conversation with Emilie and Madame Fritsche was in full swing, the door from the lobby opened a crack and a man's hand in a dark cuff with three tiny silver buttons on it was stealthily
SOFA GALLERY : thrust in and stealthily laid a big bundle on the chair near the door. Both sofa gallery instantly darted to the chair and began examining the bundle. "But these are the wrong spoons!" cried Emilie, but her aunt nudged her with her elbow and carried away the bundle without tying up the ends. It seemed to Kuzma Vassilyevitch that one end was spattered with something red, like blood. "What is it?" he asked Emilie. "Is it some more stolen things returned to you?" "Yes," answered Emilie, as it were, reluctantly. "Some more." "Was it your servant found them?" sofa gallery frowned. "What servant? We haven't any servant." "Some other man, then?" "No men come to see us." "But excuse me, excuse me.... I saw the cuff of a man's coat or jacket. And, besides, this cap...."
|
|