Peter was joking her now in an effort to get on friendly terms with her. But she still appeared a bit distrait, as if she had not yet recovered from the shock of hearing a foreigner speaking the Czar’s Russian.
“Yes, I was startled,” admitted Katerin, and now smiled at him frankly, though she gave him a searching look—the silver bars on his shoulders, the buttons of his blouse, the circle of brown tape at the cuffs of his tunic. “And you would be surprised, American, if a samovar girl should speak to you in perfect English.”
“Probably I should,” said Peter. “As it was, you surprised me this morning—I was expecting the other girl to come.”
She said nothing to that. She realized now that it would be foolish to expect him to think of her as of the servant class, and had already given up all ideas of making a pretense.
And as for Peter, he was beginning to abandon his theory that she was a spy. There was probably some other reason for her being a servant. He was chiefly concerned now with making her a friend, for the thought crossed his mind that this girl might be able to give him information about Kirsakoff, though the subject of the former Governor would have to be approached with great caution.
“The other girl could not come this morning,” she said. “But I shall not always bring your samovar—my work is on the other floors.”
“I hope you will, though it is too bad that you have to work as a samovar girl.” This was direct angling for enlightenment as to why she was serving as a samovar girl—he wanted to give her a chance to set herself right with him. If she did happen to be a spy, it would make it easy for her to improvise a history for herself and so find it easy to talk with him and deflect his suspicions—if she thought he was suspicious of her true status. He knew it was quite possible that she was a refugee who had turned “worker” for protection against the wrath of the masses toward the wealthy.
“People once rich are now poor,” said Katerin, and looked at him significantly. She was hoping that he might take this hint, and by a closer scrutiny, recognize her as Kirsakoff’s daughter. In that case, he would make it known to her that he had come from friends to find her and her father. But, as a matter of fact, Peter had forgotten that Kirsakoff had a daughter—except for a little girl.
“And it is necessary now that you work?” he asked.
“It is most necessary. I must have food and shelter by some method.”