ning-room window and shouting: "Do you want any mushrooms?" And
getting no answer, shuffled on with bare feet. . . . But at last,
when the dusk was so thick that the outlines of the geraniums behind
the muslin curtain were lost, and whiffs of the freshness of evening
were coming in at the window, the door of the passage was thrown
open noisily, and there came a sound of rapid footsteps, talk, and
laughter. . . .

"Mamma!" shrieked Petya.

Zaikin peeped out of his study and saw his wife, Nadyezhda Stepanovna,
healthy and rosy as ever; with her he saw Olga Kirillovna, a spare
woman with fair hair and heavy freckles, and two unknown men: one
a lanky young man with curly red hair and a big Adam's apple; the
other, a short stubby man with a shaven face like an actor's and a
bluish crooked chin.

"Natalya, set the samovar," cried Nadyezhda Stepanovna, with a loud
rustle of her skirts. "I hear Pavel Matveyitch is come. Pavel, where
are you? Good-evening, Pavel!" she said, running into the study
breathlessly. "So you've come. I am so glad. . . . Two of our
amateurs have come with me. . . . Come, I'll introduce you. . . .
Here, the taller one is Koromyslov . . . he sings splendidly; and
the other, the little one . . . is called Smerkalov: he is a real
actor . . . he recites magnificently. Oh, how tired I am! We have
just had a rehearsal. . . . It goes splendidly. We are acting 'The
Lodger with the Trombone' and 'Waiting for Him.' . . . The performance
is the day after tomorrow. . . ."

"Why did you bring them?" asked Zaikin.

"I couldn't help it, Poppet; after tea we must rehearse our parts
and sing something. . . . I am to sing a duet with Koromyslov. . . .
Oh, yes, I was almost forgetting! Darling, send Natalya to get
some sardines, vodka, cheese, and something else. They will most
likely stay to supper. . . . Oh, how tired I am!"

"H'm! I've no money."

"You must, Poppet! It would be awkward! Don't make me blush."

Half an hour later Natalya was sent for vodka and savouries; Zaikin,
after drinking tea and eating a whole French loaf, went to his
bedroom and lay down on the bed, while Nadyezhda Stepanovna and her
visitors, with much noise and laughter, set to work to rehearse
their parts. For a long time Pavel Matveyitch heard Koromyslov's
nasal reciting and Smerkalov's theatrical exclamations. . . . The
rehearsal was followed by a long conversation, interrupted by the
shrill laughter of Olga Kirillovna. Smerkalov, a