“I am not finding fault, but . . . why say what is not true?  If you rode about with Tatars, so be it, God bless you, but . . . why shuffle about it?”

“H’m! . . . you are a queer one!” cried the lady, revolted.  “He is jealous of Suleiman! as though one could ride up into the mountains without a guide!  I should like to see you do it!  If you don’t know the ways there, if you don’t understand, you had better hold your tongue!  Yes, hold your tongue.  You can’t take a step there without a guide.”

“So it seems!”

“None of your silly grins, if you please!  I am not a Yulia. . . .  I don’t justify her but I . . . !  Though I don’t pose as a saint, I don’t forget myself to that degree.  My Suleiman never overstepped the limits. . . .  No-o!  Mametkul used to be sitting at Yulia’s all day long, but in my room as soon as it struck eleven:  ’Suleiman, march!  Off you go!’ And my foolish Tatar boy would depart.  I made him mind his p’s and q’s, hubby!  As soon as he began grumbling about money or anything, I would say ‘How?  Wha-at?  Wha-a-a-t?’ And his heart would be in his mouth directly. . . .  Ha-ha-ha!  His eyes, you know, Vassitchka, were as black, as black, like coals, such an amusing little Tatar face, so funny and silly!  I kept him in order, didn’t I just!”

“I can fancy . . .” mumbled her husband, rolling up pellets of bread.

“That’s stupid, Vassitchka!  I know what is in your mind!  I know what you are thinking . . .  But I assure you even when we were on our expeditions I never let him overstep the limits.  For instance, if we rode to the mountains or to the U-Chan-Su waterfall, I would always say to him, ‘Suleiman, ride behind!  Do you hear!’ And he always rode behind, poor boy. . . .  Even when we . . . even at the most dramatic moments I would say to him, ’Still, you must not forget that you are only a Tatar and I am the wife of a civil councillor!’ Ha-ha. . . .”

The little lady laughed, then, looking round her quickly and assuming an alarmed expression, whispered: 

“But Yulia!  Oh, that Yulia!  I quite see, Vassitchka, there is no reason why one shouldn’t have a little fun, a little rest from the emptiness of conventional life!  That’s all right, have your fling by all means—­no one will blame you, but to take the thing seriously, to get up scenes . . . no, say what you like, I cannot understand that!  Just fancy, she was jealous!  Wasn’t that silly?  One day Mametkul, her grande passion, came to see her . . . she was not at home. . . .  Well, I asked him into my room . . . there was conversation, one thing and another . . . they’re awfully amusing, you know!  The evening passed without our noticing it. . . .  All at once Yulia rushed in. . . .  She flew at me and at Mametkul —­made such a scene . . . fi!  I can’t understand that sort of thing, Vassitchka.”

Vassitchka cleared his throat, frowned, and walked up and down the room.