“You're his valet, I suppose?”
“His servant. Now don't bother me; hold your tongue. Don't you see I'm reading?”
I peeped into the lobby. My Polycarp was there, lolling on the large red trunk, and, as usual, reading a book. With his sleepy, unblinking eyes fixed attentively on his book, he was moving his lips and frowning. He was evidently irritated by the presence of the stranger, a tall, bearded muzhik, who was standing near the trunk persistently trying to inveigle him into conversation. At my appearance the muzhik took a step away from the trunk and drew himself up at attention. Polycarp looked dissatisfied, and without removing his eyes from the book he rose slightly.
“What do you want?” I asked the muzhik.
“I have come from the Count, your honour. The Count sends you his greetings, and begs you to come to him at once.…”
“Has the Count arrived?” I asked, much astonished.
“Just so, your honour.… He arrived last night.… Here's a letter, sir.…”
“What the devil has brought him back!” my Polycarp grumbled. “Two summers we've lived peacefully without him, and this year he'll again make a pigsty of the district. We'll again not escape without shame.”
“Hold your tongue, your opinion is not asked!”
“I need not be asked.… I'll speak unasked. You'll again come home from him in drunken disorder and bathe in the lake just as you are, in all your clothes.… I've to clean them afterwards! They cannot be cleaned in three days!”