Talking in that manner, jumping from one subject to another and always very nervously, she arranged the table more or less decently, and even put the salt in the lid of a little powder box.  “Now,” she said, “I want you to wash your hands, and comb your hair, and brush your khaki, and ...” until I got almost civilized.

When we were through with the meal and a half of bottle of beer (they call “beer” this indecent looking beverage in Tumen) I asked her what brought her to Tumen?

She told me some story—­of which I believed only the fact that she was here, in my house, and that a great embarrassment had fallen on my shoulders.

“I’m glad,” I said, “you did not change at all, Lucie.  It is just as true—­all this story of yours, as the one you told me in Petrograd.  But I have no use for reforming you.  Now—­take me as an example of sincerity:  in me, my dear lady, you see now, nothing but a poor man in hiding.  All for me is in the past....  And you,—­I see it—­are still plotting, nothing could persuade me that you and I are here by mere coincidence.  You come to me—­have time to curl your hair—­and you even don’t tell me whether your intrigue could reveal my existence to those that persecute me.  You wouldn’t hesitate to pass over my dead body—­for the sake of your affairs....  Again,—­please do not feel offended,—­there is another side.  I am a working man.  Tomorrow I must be at my job early in the morning.  The night is growing old.  So, regardless of other things,—­what would you advise me to do now?”

“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....”

“Good night,” I said and went out.

27

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!...