The telegram was dispatched with one-eyed Kuz'ma. Il'ya was ordered to
send carriages to the station in about an hour. In order to kill time,
I began leisurely to light the lamps and candles in all the rooms,
then I opened the piano and passed my fingers over the keys.
After that, I remember, I lay down on the same divan and thought of
nothing, only waving away with my hand the Count, who came and
pestered me with his chatter. I was in a state of drowsiness,
half-asleep, conscious only of the brilliant light of the lamps and
feeling in a gay and quiet mood. . . . The image of the “girl in red,”
with her head bent towards her shoulder, and her eyes filled with
horror at the thought of that effective death, stood before me and
quietly shook its little finger at me. . . . The image of another
girl, with a pale, proud face, in a black dress, flitted past. She
looked at me half-entreatingly, half-reproachfully.
Later on I heard noise, laughter, running about. . . . Deep, dark eyes
obscured the light. I saw their brilliancy, their laughter. . . . A
joyful smile played about the luscious lips. . . . That was how my
gipsy Tina smiled.
“Is it you?” her voice asked. “You're asleep? Get up, darling. . . .
How long it is since I saw you last!”