He has very soft brown eyes, a healthy complexion
and a nose the inverse of aquiline, for it curves upwards to its sharp
point, as though perpetually snuffing after the pleasant fragrance of his
favourite "Dubec otborny."
"Well, my children," he said, with a slight stammer that somehow lent an
additional kindliness to his tone, "what has the day's work been? You
first, Herr Graf," he added, turning to the Count. "I suppose that you
have made a thousand at least?"
Fischelowitz possessed in abundance the tact which was lacking in Johann
Schmidt, the Cossack. He well knew that the Count had made double the
quantity, but he also knew that the latter enjoyed the small triumph of
producing twice what seemed to be expected of him.
"Two thousand, Herr Fischelowitz," he said, proudly. Then seeing that his
employer was counting out the sum of six marks, he made a deprecating
gesture, as though refusing all payment.
"No," he said, with great dignity, and rising from his seat. "No. You must
allow me, on this occasion, to refuse the honorarium usual under the
circumstances."
"And why, my dear Count?" inquired Fischelowitz, shaking the six marks in
one hand and the remainder of his money in the other, as though weighing
the silver. "And why will you refuse me the honour--"
The other working people exchanged glances of amusement, as though they
knew what was coming. Vjera hid her face in her hands as she rested her
elbows on the table before her.
"I must indeed explain," answered the Count.
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