and sinister smile. 'You won't wait for Emilie?'
Kuzma Vassilyevitch put on his cap.
'I haven't time to wait any longer, madam. I may not come to-morrow,
either. Please tell her so.'
'Very good, I'll tell her. But I hope you haven't been dull, Mr.
Lieutenant?'
'No, I have not been dull.'
'I thought not. Good-bye.'
'Good-bye.'
Kuzma Vassilyevitch returned home and stretching himself on his bed
sank into meditation. He was unutterably perplexed. 'What marvel is
this?' he cried more than once. And why did Emilie write to him? She
had made an appointment and not come! He took out her letter, turned
it over in his hands, sniffed it: it smelt of tobacco and in one place
he noticed a correction. But what could he deduce from that? And was
it possible that Madame Fritsche knew nothing about it? And
that 'pretty doll,' that 'little image,' was always before him and he
looked forward with impatience to the following evening, though
secretly he was almost afraid of this 'pretty doll' and 'little
image.'
XVIII
Next day Kuzma Vassilyevitch went shopping before dinner, and, after
persistent haggling, bought a tiny gold cross on a little velvet
ribbon. 'Though she declares,' he thought, 'that she never takes
presents, we all know what such sayings mean; and if she really is so
disinterested, Emilie won't be so squeamish.' So argued this Don Juan
of Nikolaev, who had probably never heard of the original Don Juan and
knew nothing about him. At six o'clock in the evening Kuzma
Vassilyevitch shaved carefully and sending for a hairdresser he knew,
told him to pomade and curl his topknot, which the latter did with
peculiar zeal, not sparing the government note paper for curlpapers;
then Kuzma Vassilyevitch put on a smart new uniform, took into his
right hand a pair of new wash-leather gloves, and, sprinkling himself
with lavender water, set off. Kuzma Vassilyevitch took a great deal
more trouble over his personal appearance on this occasion than when
he went to see his 'Zuckerpuppchen', not because he liked Colibri
better than Emilie but in the 'pretty little doll' there was something
enigmatic, something which stirred even the sluggish imagination of
the young lieutenant.
XIX
Madame Fritsche greeted him as she had done the day before and as
though she had conspired with him in a plan of deception, informed him
again that Emilie had gone out for a short time and asked him to wait.
Kuzma Vassilyevitch nodded in token of assent and sat down on a chair.
Madame Fritsche smiled again, that is, showed her yellow tusks and
withdrew without offering him any chocolate.
Kuzma Vassilyevitch instantly fixed his eyes on the mysterious door.
It remained closed. He coughed loudly once or twice so as to make
known his presence.... The door did not stir. He held his breath,
strained his ears.... He heard not the faintest sound or rustle;
everything was still as death. Kuzma Vassilyevitch got up, approached
the door on tiptoe and, fumbling in vain with his fingers, pressed his
knee against it. It was no use. Then he bent down and once or twice
articulated in a loud whisper, 'Colibri! Colibri! Little doll!' No one
responded. Kuzma Vassilyevitch drew himself up, straightened his
