shing eyes. "I shall go! Do you hear, insolent . . . worthless
wretch, flunkey, out you go!"

"You might have some shame before outsiders," mutters her husband
. . . .

The singer looks round and only then sees an unfamiliar countenance
that looks like an actor's. . . . The countenance, seeing the
singer's uncovered shoulders and bare feet, shows signs of
embarrassment, and looks ready to sink through the floor.

"Let me introduce . . ." mutters Nikitin, "Bezbozhnikov, a provincial
manager."

The singer utters a shriek, and runs off into her bedroom.

"There, you see . . ." says _mari d'elle_, as he stretches himself
on the sofa, "it was all honey just now . . . my love, my dear, my
darling, kisses and embraces . . . but as soon as money is touched
upon, then. . . . As you see . . . money is the great thing. . . .
Good night!"

A minute later there is a snore.

A LIVING CHATTEL

GROHOLSKY embraced Liza, kept kissing one after another all her
little fingers with their bitten pink nails, and laid her on the
couch covered with cheap velvet. Liza crossed one foot over the
other, clasped her hands behind her head, and lay down.

Groholsky sat down in a chair beside her and bent over. He was
entirely absorbed in contemplation of her.

How pretty she seemed to him, lighted up by the rays of the setting
sun!

There was a complete view from the window of the setting sun, golden,
lightly flecked with purple.

The whole drawing-room, including Liza, was bathed by it with
brilliant light that did not hurt the eyes, and for a little while
covered with gold.

Groholsky was lost in admiration. Liza was so incredibly beautiful.
It is true her little kittenish face with its brown eyes, and turn
up nose was fresh, and even piquant, his scanty hair was black as
soot and curly, her little figure was graceful, well proportioned
and mobile as the body of an electric eel, but on the whole. . . .
However my taste has nothing to do with it. Groholsky who was spoilt
by women, and who had been in love and out of love hundreds of times
in his life, saw her as a beauty. He loved her, and blind love finds
ideal beauty everywhere.

"I say," he said, looking straight into her eyes, "I have come to
talk to you, my precious. Love cannot bear anything vague or
indefinite. . . . Indefinite relations, you know, I told you
yesterday, Liza . . . we will try to-day to settle the question we
raised yesterday. Come, let us decide together