When he had grown calm he explained that the baron was fond of liqueur, and that Maryan was wild for pate and black coffee.
"Let mother prepare black coffee—thou knowest how to do it perfectly."
"What more!" snorted she. "Perhaps it would be well to take the panes from the windows, and throw the stove down?"
Kranitski spread out his arms.
"Why speak of the window-panes and the stove? What meaning can the stove and the glass have? There is no comparison between black coffee and window-panes, or the stove. Mother irritates me."
Again his face changed and he groaned; the old woman surrendered, but the question of money remained. Kranitski took a bill out of his pocketbook, held it between two fingers, and thought. This is too small. That kind of liqueur which the baron drinks is very expensive. Vexation was evident on his face. Clemens spoke up:
"Well, stop thinking, for if thou hast not a rouble thou wilt not think out one in a hundred years. Be calm. Only write all on a card for me; I will go and buy what is needed."
Kranitski struggled on the sofa.
"With what money wilt thou buy it, mother?"
But she was already in the doorway of the neighboring room, and gave no answer.