ir. Behind the counter sat a
Jewess, the false wig of red-brown hair pulled a little too far down on
her forehead; her yellow, regular face and elongated brown eyes
expressed a rigid, proud patience. Beside Boris stood a gentleman in
riding-dress, wearing spurs on his boots; his fine, sharp-cut face was
laughing, showing very white teeth under a small moustache, which sat
on his upper lip like two inky black commas.

"My friend Ladislas Worsky," said Boris introducing him, "that is a
friend for you! He rode over here in all this weather only to see us
and warn us against some bridge or other."

Again Ladislas showed his white teeth. "Oh," said he, "that is the
merit of my old saddle-mare: she finds the way in all weathers and the
blackest darkness, perhaps because she only has one eye. But, friend
Wolf, on with the samovar and whatever else you have. Let your
'youthful blessings' withdraw, and make things a little cosy here; and
Mother Wolf, assume a more amiable expression. Boris, old fellow, no
dejection! Let us sit down to our _souper_."

And he seated himself at the table, bent over toward Billy, looked at
her with his shining eyes attentively and a trifle impudently, and
began to converse, cheerful and polite, as if he were sitting in a
_salon_.

"_Souper_, oh well, what goes by that name; the delicacies of our
friend Wolf we have no use for. Eggs at most: they are not penetrated
by the Old Testament. And so I permitted myself to coax a cold chicken
in secret from our old housekeeper at home and bring it with me."

He unwrapped the chicken from a paper, laid it on the plate, and began
to carve it, very neatly and correctly; a trifle too dainty and then
again too flourishing were the motions of the white hands with the many
sparkling rings. He spoke the while without ceasing of the weather, of
the road, of the Jew Wolf, and Billy answered as if he were a young
gentleman who was making his first visit and whom she had to receive.

"This piece, Countess, if you please," he said, laying a
chicken-wing on Billy's plate; "this is a Spanish fowl: my mother is
interested in special breeds. But Boris, you are not saying anything,
_tu n'es pas en train, mon vieux_, you are wrong, brother. You have
every reason to be of good cheer, a tremendous lot of reason," and he
bowed slightly toward Billy, "but we'll manage that all right. Wolf,
come here with some of your sinful champagne. You know, our friend Wolf
always has ch