“Received in stamps, 15th of April,” read Lichonin, “10 roubles; 16th—4 roubles; 17th—12 roubles; 18th—sick; 19th—sick; 20th—6 roubles; 21st—24 roubles.”
“My God!” with loathing, with horror, reflected Lichonin. “Twelve men in one night!”
At the end of the month stood:
“Total 330 roubles.”
“Lord! Why, this is some sort of delirium! One hundred and sixty-five visits,” thought Lichonin, having mechanically calculated it, and still continued turning the pages. Then he went over to the columns on the right.
“Made, a red dress of silk with lace 84 roubles Dressmaker Eldokimova. Dressing sack of lace 35 roubles Dressmaker Eldokimova. Silk stockings 6 pair 36 roubles,” &c., &c. “Given for cab-fare, given for candy, perfumes bought,” &c., &c. “Total 205 roubles.” After that from the 330 roubles were deducted 220 roubles—the share of the proprietress for board and lodging. The figure of 110 roubles resulted. The end of the monthly account declared:
“Total after the payment to the dressmaker and for other articles, of 110 roubles, a debt of ninety-five (95) roubles remains for Irene Voschhenkova and with the four hundred and eighteen roubles remaining from last year—five hundred and thirteen (513) roubles.”
Lichonin’s spirits fell. He did try, at first, to be indignant at the expensiveness of the materials supplied; but the housekeeper retorted with SANG FROID that that did not concern her at all; that the establishment demanded only that the girl dress decently, as becomes a girl from a decent, genteel house; while it did not concern itself with the rest. The establishment merely extended her credit in paying her expenses.
“But this is a vixen, a spider in human shape—this dressmaker of yours!” yelled Lichonin beside himself. “Why, she’s in a conspiracy with you, cupping glass that you are, you abominable tortoise! Scuttlefish! Where’s your conscience?”
The more agitated he grew, the more calm and jeering Emma Edwardovna became.