"I have nothing to say," she answered sadly and in a low voice, "You are the Lord here."
"What do you advise me to do?" I repeated growing angry.
"I'll do anything you say," she answered blushing and lowering her head, "I am ready."
"Lucie," I said, "It is not a question _of that_. You see I cannot put you out on the streets. A good master would not do it to his dog. But, on the other hand they have not yet built the Ritz here."
"I am not asking you to go from your house, Alex. I had for a moment,--when I saw who Syvorotka was--a little ray of sunshine. I see I am mistaken. Could you take me to the depot, then?"
"I shall do nothing of the kind," I answered. "Nobody warned me you might come here. I was not ready. So--please stay here for to-night. I have a place where I can find an abode, and tomorrow we can decide what to do. There is some frozen milk in the pantry and if I don't return--right where you are sitting in the mattress there is some money. Good night, Lucie."
"Alex, are you really going?" she asked taking me by the arm, "Are you _really_ going out just not to be with me? Is it a pose? Or are you serious? Please don't do it...."
A night in a small city of Siberia! One can see only because the snow is white. No moon, no electricity.... Where is my new Peugeot now? Who is driving it now? Where is Anton? Whose chauffer is he now, and is he still a chauffer, or has the wheel of fortune turned and made him Commissary of Arts, or Commissary of Public Health? Or, true to his master, was he hanged defending my automobile? Kismet!...
There were only two blocks to the L.--but the snow was so deep and it was so windy and cold, it seemed to me a good mile, till I reached the house.
It was dark as usual. As usual it seemed dead. But, when I was quite close to it, I heard some movement inside and I detected something in the yard. This something materialized very soon into a couple of evil faces and rifles with fixed bayonets. Inside of the house there were muffled voices. Near the rear gate (I could see it due to the sloping of the lot) three horses and a snow sledge were standing. A few voices were raised in dispute in the barn, swearing a blue streak. "Arrest"--it was clear. When I was trying to think of something to help,--and what could I think of?--the double pane of the bedroom window was suddenly broken by something heavy thrown from the inside and a desperate piercing voice of Pasha--I immediately knew it was the poor girl--shouted with all of the strength of her lungs: "Help, help! In Christ's name, help...." The cry was broken off in the middle, muffled by the palm of a hand, and became a mutter of despair and horror: "M-p-p, maa...." Somebody stuffed a white pillow in the hole. Again all became quiet.