“Walk into the drawing-room, please,” bare-footed Mit'ka spluttered almost choking with delight.
Try to imagine the very smallest drawing-room in the world, with unpainted deal walls. These walls are hung all over with oleographs from the “Niva,” photographs in frames made of shells, and testimonials. One testimonial is from a certain baron, expressing his gratitude for many years of service; all the others are for horses. Here and there ivy climbs up the wall.… In a corner a small lamp, whose tiny blue flame is faintly reflected on the silver mounting, burns peacefully before a little icon. Chairs that have evidently been only recently bought are pressed close together round the walls. Too many had been purchased, and they had been squeezed together, as there was nowhere else to put them.… Here, also, there are armchairs and a sofa in snow-white covers with flounces and laces, crowded up with a polished round table. A tame hare dozes on the sofa.… The room is cosy, clean and warm.… The presence of a woman can be noticed everywhere. Even the whatnot with books has a look of innocence and womanliness; it appears to be anxious to say that there is nothing on its shelves but wishy-washy novels and mawkish verse.… The charm of such warm, cosy rooms is not so much felt in spring as in autumn, when you look for a refuge from the cold and dampness.
After much loud snivelling, blowing, and noisy striking of matches, Mit'ka lit two candles and placed them on the table as carefully as if they had been milk. We sat down in the arm-chairs, looked at each other, and laughed.
“Nikolai Efimych is ill in bed,” Urbenin said, to explain the absence of the master, “and Olga Nikolaevna has probably gone to accompany my children.…”
“Mit'ka, are the doors shut?” we heard a weak tenor voice asking from the next room.
“They're all shut, Nikolai Efimych!” Mit'ka shouted hoarsely, and he rushed headlong into the next room.
“That's right! See that they are all shut,” the same weak voice said again. “And locked—firmly locked.… If thieves break in, you must tell me.… I'll shoot the villains with my gun … the scoundrels!”
“Certainly, Nikolai Efimych!”
We laughed and looked inquiringly at Urbenin. He grew very red, and in order to hide his confusion he began to arrange the curtains of the windows.… What does this dream mean? We again looked at each other.
We had no time for perplexity. Hasty steps were heard outside, then a noise in the porch and the slamming of doors. And the “girl in red” rushed into the room.