“Look how the bear swigs vodka!”
Skobotchkina could not decide to refuse vodka. It seemed to her that a she-bear should drink vodka when it was brought to her.
A man dressed as an ancient German was conspicuous by his stature and fine build. He pleased many because of his robustness and because his powerful arms with their well-developed muscles were visible. Women particularly walked after him, and all around him rose a whisper of admiration and of flattery. The ancient German was recognised as the actor, Bengalsky, who is a favourite in our town. That was why he received a large number of tickets. Many people argued thus:
“If I can’t get the prize, then at least let an actor (or an actress) get it. If any of us get it they will tire us out with boasting.”
Grushina’s costume was also a success—a scandalous success. The men followed her in a thick crowd, with laughter and indelicate observations. The women turned away in embarrassment. At last the Commissioner of Police walked up to Grushina and said suavely:
“Madame, I’m afraid you must cover yourself.”
“Why? There’s nothing indecent to be seen about me,” replied Grushina vigorously.
“Madame, the ladies are offended,” said Minchukov.
“What do I care for your ladies?” shouted Grushina.
“Now, Madame,” insisted Minchukov, “you must put at least a handkerchief on your chest and back.”
“Suppose my handkerchief’s dirty?” said Grushina with a vulgar laugh.
But Minchukov insisted:
“As you please, Madame; but if you don’t cover yourself a little, you’ll have to go.”
Grumbling violently, Grushina went into the dressing-room and with the help of the attendant rearranged the folds of her dress across her chest and back. When she returned to the hall, though she looked more modest, she just as zealously sought for admirers. She flirted vulgarly with any man. Then when people’s attention was elsewhere she went into the refreshment-room to steal sweets. Soon she returned to the hall, and showing Volodin a couple of peaches, smiled impudently and said:
“I got them myself!”
And immediately the peaches were hidden in the folds of her costume. Volodin’s face lit up with joy.
“Well,” he said, “if so, I’ll go too.”
Soon Grushina got tipsy and began to behave boisterously—she shouted, waved her arms and spat.
“Dianka’s getting very happy!” everyone said about her.
Such was the masked ball to which the foolish girls had enticed the scatterbrained schoolboy. The three sisters and Sasha took two cabs and arrived rather late, on his account. Their arrival in the hall was noticed. The Geisha particularly pleased many people. The rumour went round that the Geisha was Kashtanova, the actress, very popular with the male portion of local society. And that was why Sasha received a large number of cards. But in fact Kashtanova was not there, for her little boy had fallen dangerously ill.
Sasha, intoxicated by his new situation, coquetted furiously. The more they stuck their cards into the Geisha’s little hand, the more gaily and provokingly gleamed the eyes of the coquettish Geisha through the narrow slits of the mask. The Geisha curtsied, lifted her small fingers, laughed in an intimate tone, waved her fan, struck first one man and then another on the shoulder, then hid her face behind her fan and frequently opened out her rose parasol. However, these not over-graceful actions attracted many who admired the actress Kashtanova.
“I will give my card to the most beautiful of ladies,” said Tishkov, and handed his card to the Geisha with a gallant bow.
He had taken a good deal to drink and his face was flushed; his motionlessly smiling face and awkward figure made him look like a doll. And he kept continually rhyming.
Valeria looked on at Sasha’s success, and felt envious and annoyed; she now wanted to be recognised and to have her costume and slender, graceful figure please the crowd, and be awarded the prize. And now she sadly thought that this was not possible, as all the three sisters had agreed to get cards only for the Geisha, and even to give their own to her.
They were dancing in the hall. Volodin got tipsy very soon and began to dance the “squat” dance. The police stopped him.
He said cheerfully and obediently:
“Well, if I mustn’t, then I mustn’t.”
But two other men who had followed his example and were dancing the “squat” dance refused to obey the order.
“What right have you to stop us? Haven’t we paid our half-rouble?” they exclaimed and were escorted out. Volodin went with them to the door, cutting capers, smiling and dancing.
The Routilov girls made haste to find Peredonov to make a fool of him. He sat alone at the window and looked at the crowd with wandering eyes. All people and objects seemed to him senseless, inharmonious, and equally hostile. Liudmilla, in her gipsy dress, went up to him and said in a guttural voice:
“Shall I tell your fortune, pretty gentleman?”
“Go to the devil!” shouted Peredonov.
The gipsy’s sudden appearance frightened him.
“Give me your hand, dear gentleman, pretty gentleman. I can see from your face that you’ll be rich. You’ll be an important official,” Liudmilla importuned him, and took his hand.
“Well, see that you give me a good fortune,” growled Peredonov.
“My sweet gentleman,” began the gipsy, “you have many enemies, they’ll inform against you, you will weep, you will die under a fence.”
“Carrion!” shouted Peredonov, and snatched his hand away.
Liudmilla quickly disappeared in the crowd. Then Valeria took her place. She sat down beside Peredonov and whispered to him very tenderly:
“I am a lovely Spanish maid,
And I love such men as you,
But that your wife’s a wretched jade,
Handsome gentleman, is true.”
“It’s a lie, you fool,” growled Peredonov.
Valeria went on:
“Hotter than day, sweeter than night,
Is my
