nerves. And that’s bad.’’
‘‘And what if she could hear this villain!’’ sighed Kukushkin. ‘‘My dear sir,’’ he said theatrically, ‘‘I shall release you from the onerous duty of loving this charming being! I shall woo Zinaida Fyodorovna away from you!’’
‘‘Go ahead . . .’’ Orlov said carelessly.
For half a minute Kukushkin laughed in a thin little voice and shook all over, then he said:
‘‘Watch out, I’m not joking! Please don’t play the Othello afterwards!’’
They all began talking about how indefatigable Kukushkin was in amorous affairs, how irresistible he was for women and dangerous for husbands, and how devils would roast him on hot coals in the other world for his dissolute life. He kept silent and narrowed his eyes, and when ladies of his acquaintance were named, he shook his little finger threateningly—meaning, don’t give away other people’s secrets. Orlov suddenly looked at his watch.
The guests understood and made ready to leave. I remember Gruzin, drunk on wine, this time was painfully long getting dressed. He put on his coat, which resembled the capotes they used to make for children in unwealthy families, raised his collar, and began telling something lengthy; then, seeing that no one was listening to him, he threw his plaid that smelled of the nursery over his shoulder, and asked me, with a guilty, pleading look, to find his hat.
‘‘Georginka, my angel!’’ he said tenderly. ‘‘Listen to me, dearest, let’s take a drive out of town!’’
‘‘You go, I can’t. I have the status of a married man now.’’
‘‘She’s nice, she won’t be angry. My kindly superior, let’s go! The weather’s splendid, a little blizzard, a little frost . . . Word of honor, you need shaking up, you’re out of sorts, devil knows . . .’’
Orlov stretched, yawned, and looked at Pekarsky.
‘‘Will you go?’’ he asked, reconsidering.
‘‘Don’t know. Perhaps.’’
‘‘At least get drunk, eh? All right, I’ll go,’’ Orlov decided after some hesitation. ‘‘Wait, I’ll go and get some money.’’
He went to his study, and Gruzin trudged after him, dragging his plaid behind him. A moment later, they both came back to the front hall. Gruzin, tipsy and very pleased, crumpled a ten-rouble note in his hand.
‘‘We’ll settle up tomorrow,’’ he said. ‘‘And she’s kind, she won’t be angry... She’s my Lizochka’s godmother, I love her, poor woman. Ah, my dear man!’’ he suddenly laughed joyfully and pressed his forehead to Pekarsky’s back. ‘‘Ah, Pekarsky, my soul! Attornissimus, dry as a dry rusk, but he sure likes women . . .’’
‘‘Add: fat ones,’’ said Orlov, putting on his fur coat. ‘‘However, let’s go, or else we’ll meet her in the doorway.’’
‘‘Vieni pensando a me segretamente! ’’ sang Gruzin.
They finally left. Orlov did not spend the night at home and came back only by dinnertime the next day.
VI
ZINAIDA FYODOROVNA’S GOLDEN watch, once given to her by her father, disappeared. This disappearance astonished and frightened her. For half a day she walked through all the rooms, looking in perplexity at the tables and windowsills, but the watch had vanished into thin air.
Soon after that, about three days later, Zinaida Fyodorovna, having come back from somewhere, forgot her purse in the front hall. Fortunately for me, it was not I who helped her out of her things but Polya. When the purse was found missing, it was no longer in the front hall.
‘‘Strange!’’ Zinaida Fyodorovna was puzzled. ‘‘I remember perfectly well taking it out of my pocket to pay the cabby...and then putting it here by the mirror. Wonders!’’
I hadn’t stolen it, but a feeling came over me as if I had stolen it and had been caught. Tears even came to my eyes. When they sat down to dinner, Zinaida Fyodorovna said to Orlov in French:
‘‘We have ghosts here. Today I lost my purse in the front hall, but I looked just now, and it was lying on my desk. But it was not an unmercenary trick the ghosts played. They took a gold piece and twenty roubles for their work.’’
‘‘First your watch disappeared, and now it’s money . . .’’ said Orlov. ‘‘Why does nothing like that ever happen with me?’’
A minute later, Zinaida Fyodorovna no longer remembered the trick the ghosts had played, and was laughingly telling how she had ordered some stationery a week ago but had forgotten to leave her new address in the shop, and the stationery had been sent to her husband at the old apartment, and her husband had had to pay the bill of twelve roubles. And she suddenly rested her gaze on Polya and looked at her intently. With that, she blushed and became confused to such a degree that she started talking about something else.
When I brought coffee to the study, Orlov was standing by the fireplace with his back to the fire, and she was sitting in an armchair facing him.
‘‘I’m not at all in a bad mood,’’ she was saying in French. ‘‘But I’ve started to figure it out now, and it’s all clear to me.
I can name you the day and even the hour when she stole my watch. And the purse? There can be no doubts here. Oh!’’ she laughed, taking the coffee from me. ‘‘Now I understand why I lose my handkerchiefs and gloves so often. As you like, but tomorrow I’ll let the magpie go and send Stepan for my Sofya. She’s not a thief, and she doesn’t have such a...repugnant look.’’
‘‘You’re out of sorts. Tomorrow you’ll be in a different mood, and you’ll understand that it’s impossible to dismiss a person only because you suspect her of something.’’
‘‘I don’t suspect, I’m certain,’’ said Zinaida Fyodorovna. ‘‘All the while I suspected that proletarian with the wretched face, your servant, I never said a word. It’s too bad you don’t believe me, Georges.’’
‘‘If you and I think differently about something, it doesn’t mean I don’t believe you. You may be right,’’ said
