“To-day I was allowed accidentally to touch her waist,” he mumbled. “To-morrow, therefore, we can begin to go further.”
“Well, and Nadia? How do things stand with Nadia?”
“We are progressing! I've only begun with her as yet. So far, we are passing through the period of conversations with the eyes. I love to read in her sad black eyes, brother. Something is written there that words are unable to express, that only the soul can understand. Let's have another drink!”
“It seems that you please her since she has the patience to listen to you for hours at a time. You also please her papa!”
“Her papa? Are you talking about that blockhead? Ha, ha! The simpleton suspects me of honourable intentions.”
The Count coughed and drank.
“He thinks I'll marry her! To say nothing of my not being able to marry, when one considers the question honestly it would be more honest in me to seduce a girl than to marry her.… An eternal life with a drunken, coughing, semi-old man … br‑r‑r! My wife would pine away, or she would run away the next day.… What noise is that?”
The Count and I jumped up.… Several doors were slammed to, and almost at the same moment Olga rushed into the room. She was as white as snow, and trembled like a chord that had been struck violently. Her hair was falling loose around her. The pupils of her eyes were dilated. She was out of breath and was crumpling in her hand the front pleats of her dressing-gown.
“Olga, what is the matter with you?” I asked, seizing her by the hand and turning pale.
The Count ought to have been surprised at this familiar form of address, but he did not hear it. His whole person was turned into one large note of interrogation, and with open mouth and staring eyes he stood looking at Olga as if she were an apparition.