agreeable, but guttural and to theears of Kuzma Vassilyevitch rather savage. "Oh, you pretty kitten," hethought. She sang a mournful song, utterly un-Russian and in alanguage quite unknown to Kuzma Vassilyevitch. He used to declare thatthe sounds "Kha, gha" kept recurring in it and at the end she repeateda long drawn-out "sintamar" or "sintsimar," or something of the sort,leaned her head on her hand, heaved a sigh and let the guitar drop onher knee. "Good?" she asked, "want more?"
"I should be delighted," answered Kuzma Vassilyevitch. "But why do youlook like that, as though you were grieving? You'd better have somesorbet."
"No ... you. And I will again.... It will be more merry." She sanganother song, that sounded like a dance, in the same unknown language.Again Kuzma Vassilyevitch distinguished the same guttural sounds. Herswarthy fingers fairly raced over the strings, "like little spiders,"and she ended up this time with a jaunty shout of "Ganda" or "Gassa,"and with flashing eyes banged on the table with her little fist.
XVI
Kuzma Vassilyevitch sat as though he were in a dream. His head wasgoing round. It was all so unexpected.... And the scent, thesinging ... the candles in the daytime ... the sorbet flavoured withvanilla. And Colibri kept coming closer to him, too; her hair shone andrustled, and there was a glow of warmth from her--and that melancholyface.... "A russalka!" thought Kuzma Vassilyevitch. He felt somewhatawkward.
"Tell me, my pretty, what put it into your head to invite me to-day?"
"You are young, pretty ... such I like."
"So that's it! But what will Emilie say? She wrote me a letter: she issure to be back directly."
"You not tell her ... nothing! Trouble! She will kill!"
Kuzma Vassilyevitch laughed.
"As though she were so fierce!"
Colibri gravely shook her head several times.
"And to Madame Fritsche, too, nothing. No, no, no!" She tapped herselflightly on the forehead. "Do you understand, officer?"
Kuzma Vassilyevitch frowned.
"It's a secret, then?"
"Yes ... yes."
"Very well.... I won't say a word. Only you ought to give me a kissfor that."
"No, afterwards ... when you are gone."
"That's a fine idea!" Kuzma Vassilyevitch was bending down to her butshe slowly drew herself back and stood stiffly erect like a snakestartled in the grass. Kuzma Vassilyevitch stared at her. "Well!" hesaid at last, "you are a spiteful thing! All right, then."
Colibri pondered and turned to the lieutenant.... All at once therewas the muffled sound of tapping repeated three times at evenintervals somewhere in the house. Colibri laughed, almost snorted.
"To-day--no, to-morrow--yes. Come to-morrow."
"At what time?"
"Seven ... in the evening."
"And what about Emilie?"
"Emilie ... no; will not be here."
"You think so? Very well. Only, to-morrow you will tell me?"
"What?" (Colibri's face assumed a childish expression every time sheasked a question.)
"Why you have been hiding away from me all this time?"
"Yes ... yes; everything shall be to-morrow; the end shall be."
"Mind now! And I'll bring you a present."
"No ... no need."
"Why not? I see you like fine clothes."
"No need. This ... this ... this ..." she pointed to her dress, herrings, her bracelets, and everything about her, "it is all my own. Nota present. I do not take."
"As you like. And now must I go?"
"Oh, yes."
Kuzma Vassilyevitch got up. Colibri got up, too.
"Good-bye, pretty little doll! And when will you give me a kiss?"
Colibri suddenly gave a little jump and swiftly flinging both armsround his neck, gave him not precisely a kiss but a peck at his lips.He tried in his turn to kiss her but she instantly darted back andstood behind the sofa.
"To-morrow at seven o'clock, then?" he said with some confusion.
She nodded and taking a tress of her long hair with her two fingers,bit it with her sharp teeth.
Kuzma Vassilyevitch kissed his hand to her, went out and shut the doorafter him. He heard Colibri run up to it at once.... The key clickedin the lock.
XVII
There was no one in Madame Fritsche's drawing-room. KuzmaVassilyevitch made his way to the passage at once. He did not want tomeet Emilie. Madame Fritsche met him on the steps.
"Ah, you are going, Mr. Lieutenant?" she said, with the same affectedand sinister smile. "You won't wait for Emilie?"
Kuzma Vassilyevitch put on his cap.
"I haven't time to wait any longer, madam. I may not come to-morrow,either. Please tell her so."
"Very good, I'll tell her. But I hope you haven't been dull, Mr.Lieutenant?"
"No, I have not been dull."
"I thought not. Good-bye."
"Good-bye."
Kuzma Vassilyevitch returned home and stretching himself on his bedsank into meditation. He was unutterably perplexed. "What marvel isthis?" he cried more than once. And why did Emilie write to him? Shehad made an appointment and not come! He took out her letter, turnedit over in his hands, sniffed it: it smelt of tobacco and in one placehe noticed a correction. But what could he deduce from that? And wasit possible that Madame Fritsche knew nothing about it? And_she_.... Who was she? Yes, who was she? The fascinating Colibri,that "pretty doll," that "little image," was always before him and helooked forward with impatience to the following evening, thoughsecretly he was almost afraid of this "pretty doll" and "littleimage."
XVIII
Next day Kuzma Vassilyevitch went shopping before dinner, and, afterpersistent haggling, bought a tiny gold cross on a little velvetribbon. "Though she declares," he thought, "that she never takespresents, we all know what such sayings mean; and if she really is sodisinterested, Emilie won't be so squeamish." So argued this Don Juanof Nikolaev, who had probably never heard of the original Don Juan andknew nothing about him. At six o'clock in the evening KuzmaVassilyevitch shaved carefully and sending for a hairdresser he knew,told him to pomade and curl his topknot, which the latter did withpeculiar zeal, not sparing the government note paper for curlpapers;then Kuzma Vassilyevitch put on a smart new uniform, took into hisright hand a pair of new wash-leather gloves, and, sprinkling himselfwith lavender water, set off. Kuzma Vassilyevitch took a great dealmore trouble over his personal appearance on this occasion than whenhe went to see his "Zuckerpueppchen", not because he liked Colibribetter than Emilie but in the "pretty little doll" there was somethingenigmatic, something which stirred even the sluggish imagination ofthe young lieutenant.
XIX
Madame Fritsche greeted him as she had done the day before and asthough she had conspired with him in a plan of deception, informed himagain that Emilie had gone out for a short time and asked him to wait.Kuzma Vassilyevitch nodded in token of assent and sat down on a chair.Madame Fritsche smiled again, that is, showed her yellow tusks andwithdrew without offering him any chocolate.
Kuzma Vassilyevitch instantly fixed his eyes on the mysterious door.It remained closed. He coughed loudly once or twice so as to makeknown his presence.... The door did not stir. He held his breath,strained his ears.... He heard not the faintest sound or rustle;everything was still as death. Kuzma Vassilyevitch got up, approachedthe door on tiptoe and, fumbling in vain with his fingers, pressed hisknee against it. It was no use. Then he bent down and once or twicearticulated in a loud whisper, "Colibri! Colibri! Little doll!" No oneresponded. Kuzma Vassilyevitch drew himself up, straightened hisuniform--and, after standing still a little while, walked with moreresolute steps to the window and began drumming on the pane. He beganto feel vexed, indignant; his dignity as an officer began to assertitself. "What nonsense is this?" he thought at last; "whom do theytake me for? If they go on like this, I'll knock with my fists. Shewill be forced to answer! The old woman will hear.... What of it?That's not my fault." He turned swiftly on his heel ... the door stoodhalf open.
XX
> Kuzma Vassilyevitch immediately hastened into the secret room again ontiptoe. Colibri was lying on the sofa in a white dress with a broadred sash. Covering the lower part of her face with a handkerchief, shewas laughing, a noiseless but genuine laugh. She had done up her hair,this time plaiting it into two long, thick plaits intertwined with redribbon; the same slippers adorned her tiny, crossed feet but the feetthemselves were bare and looking at them one might fancy that she hadon dark, silky stockings. The sofa stood in a different position,nearer the wall; and on the table he saw on a Chinese tray
Knock, Knock, Knock and Other Stories Page 19
