A dim, wintry dawn was gradually breaking. The family of Sergius—the former head of a ministerial department—could be heard rousing themselves behind the wall.
"You have had sufficient albumen; take hydrates now," rose Lina's voice, calling to her children.
"Potatoes?"
"Yes."
"And fat?"
"You have had enough fat."
The general smiled craftily, then muttered grumpily:
"That is not eating, that is scientific alimentation." He cut himself a piece of bacon, ate it with some white bread, and drank more tea with sweet root and candied melon.
Gradually the occupants of the house roused themselves and half- dressed, sleepy—carrying their towels, empty samovars, and tooth brushes—they began to pass along the corridor in front of the general's open door.
Kirill Lvovich eyed them maliciously as he sat drinking his tea and inwardly cursed them all.