uniform--and, after standing still a little while, walked with more
resolute steps to the window and began drumming on the pane. He began
to feel vexed, indignant; his dignity as an officer began to assert
itself. 'What nonsense is this?' he thought at last; 'whom do they
take me for? If they go on like this, I'll knock with my fists. She
will be forced to answer! The old woman will hear.... What of it?
That's not my fault.' He turned swiftly on his heel ... the door stood
half open.
XX
Kuzma Vassilyevitch immediately hastened into the secret room again on
tiptoe. Colibri was lying on the sofa in a white dress with a broad
red sash. Covering the lower part of her face with a handkerchief, she
was laughing, a noiseless but genuine laugh. She had done up her hair,
this time plaiting it into two long, thick plaits intertwined with red
ribbon; the same slippers adorned her tiny, crossed feet but the feet
themselves were bare and looking at them one might fancy that she had
on dark, silky stockings. The sofa stood in a different position,
nearer the wall; and on the table he saw on a Chinese tray a
bright-coloured, round-bellied coffee pot beside a cut glass sugar bowl
and two blue China cups. The guitar was lying there, too, and blue-grey
smoke rose in a thin coil from a big, aromatic candle.
Kuzma Vassilyevitch went up to the sofa and bent over Colibri, but
before he had time to utter a word she held out her hand and, still
laughing in her handkerchief, put her little, rough fingers into his
hair and instantly ruffled the well-arranged curls on the top of his
head.
'What next?' exclaimed Kuzma Vassilyevitch, not altogether pleased by
such unceremoniousness. 'Oh, you naughty girl!'
Colibri took the handkerchief from her face.
'Not nice so; better now.' She moved away
to the further end of the sofa and drew her feet
up under her. 'Sit down ... there.'
Kuzma Vassilyevitch sat down on the spot indicated.
'Why do you move away?' he said, after a brief silence. 'Surely you
are not afraid of me?'
Colibri curled herself up and looked at him sideways.
'I am not afraid ... no.'
'You must not be shy with me,' Kuzma Vassilyevitch said in an
admonishing tone. 'Do you remember your promise yesterday to give me a
kiss?'
Colibri put her arms round her knees, laid her head on them and looked
at him again.
'I remember.'
'I should hope so. And you must keep your word.'
'Yes ... I must.'
'In that case,' Kuzma Vassilyevitch was beginning, and he moved
nearer.
Colibri freed her plaits which she was holding tight with her knees
and with one of them gave him a flick on his hand.
'Not so fast, sir!'
Kuzma Vassilyevitch was embarrassed.
'What eyes she has, the rogue!' he muttered, as though to himself.
'But,' he went on, raising his voice, 'why did you call me ... if that
is how it is?'
Colibri craned her neck like a bird ... she listened. Kuzma
Vassilyevitch was alarmed.
'Emilie?' he asked.
'No.'
'Someone else?'
Colibri shrugged her shoulder.
'Do you hear something?'
'Nothing.' With a birdlike movement, again Colibri drew back her
little oval-shaped head with its pretty parting and the short growth
