“Her cook, prince?”
“Ye—yes, her cook, a Frenchman, abroad. She bought him a count's title a—broad; he was a good-looking fellow enough, with little moustaches——”
“And how did they get on?”
“Oh, very well indeed; however, they p—arted very soon; they quarrelled about some sa—sauce. He robbed her—and bo—olted.”
“Mamma, what shall I play?” asked Zina.
“Better sing us something, Zina. How she sings, prince! Do you like music?”
“Oh, ye—yes! charming, charming. I love music pass—sionately. I knew Beethoven, abroad.”
“Knew Beethoven!” cried Maria Alexandrovna, ecstatically. “Imagine, Zina, the prince knew Beethoven! Oh, prince, did you really, really know the great Beethoven?”
“Ye—yes, we were great friends, Beet—hoven and I; he was always taking snuff—such a funny fellow!”
“What, Beethoven?”