“No! no!” I cried with my eyes shut and standing rigid in the position in which Bozevsky had placed me, for I dared not move a muscle.
Vassili called impatiently: “What on earth are you waiting for?”
Still motionless, I gasped:
“Perhaps—I might dare—if some one were to cover my ears.”
Amidst great amusement Bozevsky came behind me and placed his two hands over my ears.
“Come now!” cried Stahl. “Do not be frightened.”
“Mind you hit the third bottle,” shouted Vassili from the distance.
Bozevsky standing behind me was clasping my head as though in a vice and whispering into my hair: “Darling, darling, darling! I love you.”
“Don't,” I cried, almost in tears under the stress of different emotions, “and don't hold my ears so tight.”
The warm clasp relaxed at once.