Two gentlemen in black entered the shop. The one was a stout,
angry-looking person of middle age, very dark, and very full about the
lower part of the face, which was not concealed by the closely cut black
beard. His companion was a diminutive little man, very thin and very
spruce, not less than fifty years old. His face was entirely shaved and
was deeply marked with lines and furrows. A pair of piercing grey eyes
looked through big gold-rimmed spectacles. As he took off his hat, a few
thin, sandy-coloured locks fluttered a little and then settled themselves
upon the smooth surface of his cranium, like autumn leaves falling upon a
marble statue in a garden.
"Herr Fischelowitz?" inquired the larger of the two customers, touching
his hat but not removing it.
"At your service," answered the tobacconist. "Cigarettes?" he inquired.
"Strong? Light? Kir, Samson, Dubec?"
"I am the new Russian Consul," said the stranger. "This gentleman is just
arrived from Petersburg and has business with you."
"My name is Konstantin Grabofsky, and I am a lawyer," observed the little
man very sharply.
Fischelowitz bowed till his nose almost came into collision with the
counter. The others in the shop held their peace and opened their eyes.
"And I am told that Count Boris Michaelovitch Skariatine is here,"
continued the lawyer.
"Oh--the mad Count!" exclaimed Akulina with an angry laugh, and coming
forward. "Yes, we can tell you all about him."
"I am sorry," said Grabofsky, "to hear you call him mad, since my business
is with him, Barina, and not with you.
Pages:
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220