But the Bohemians swept some opening chords for their songs, and the singers took everybody’s attention, everybody excepting Prince Galitch and Annouchka, who, half turned toward one another, exchanged some words on the edge of all this musical uproar.  As for Rouletabille, he certainly must have been sleeping soundly not to have been waked by all that noise, melodious as it was.  It is true that he had — apparently — drunk a good deal and, as everyone knows, in Russia drink lays out those who can’t stand it.  When the Bohemians had sung three times Gounsovski made a sign that they might go to charm other ears, and slipped into the hands of the chief of the band a twenty-five rouble note.  But Onoto wished to give her mite, and a regular collection commenced.  Each one threw roubles into the plate held out by a little swarthy Bohemian girl with crow-black hair, carelessly combed, falling over her forehead, her eyes and her face, in so droll a fashion that one would have said the little thing was a weeping-willow soaked in ink.  The plate reached Prince Galitch, who futilely searched his pockets.

“Bah!” said he, with a lordly air, “I have no money.  But here is my pocket-book; I will give it to you for a souvenir of me, Katharina.”

Thaddeus and Athanase exclaimed at the generosity of the prince, but Annouchka said: 

“The prince does as he should, for my friends can never sufficiently repay the hospitality that that little thing gave me in her dirty hut when I was in hiding, while your famous department was deciding what to do about me, my dear Gounsovski.”

“Eh,” replied Gounsovski, “I let you know that all you had to do was to take a fine apartment in the city.”

Annouchka spat on the ground like a teamster, and Gounsovski from yellow turned green.

“But why did you hide yourself that way, Annouchka?” asked Onoto as she caressed the beautiful tresses of the singer.

“You know I had been condemned to death, and then pardoned.  I had been able to leave Moscow, and I hadn’t any desire to be re-taken here and sent to taste the joys of Siberia.”

“But why were you condemned to death?”

“Why, she doesn’t know anything!” exclaimed the others.

“Good Lord, I’m just back from London and Paris — how should I know anything!  But to have been condemned to death!  That must have been amusing.”

“Very amusing,” said Annouchka icily.  “And if you have a brother whom you love, Onoto, think how much more amusing it must be to have him shot before you.”

“Oh, my love, forgive me!”

“So you may know and not give any pain to your Annouchka in the future, I will tell you, madame, what happened to our dear friend,” said Prince Galitch.

“We would do better to drive away such terrible memories,” ventured Gounsovski, lifting his eyelashes behind his glasses, but he bent his head as Annouchka sent him a blazing glance.