“No, comrade Natalya, you are in time.”
“Let us go over there, comrade Valentine.”
The names were pronounced tenderly. A man in a cap, black shirt,[18] and high boots, walked up to Elisaveta. He had a small black beard and moustache, and his face, which was both familiar and unfamiliar, had something in it that stirred her. He exclaimed:
“Elisaveta, you don’t recognize me?”
She recognized him at once by his voice. A warmth suffused her. She laughed and said joyously:
“I knew you by your voice alone. Your beard and moustache make you wholly unrecognizable.”
“They are glued on,” explained Trirodov.
They conversed. He heard some one whisper behind his back:
“That is comrade Elisaveta. She’s considered the first beauty in our town.”
Trirodov was for some reason overjoyed at these words, partly because Elisaveta heard them and blushed so furiously that even the dim moonlight could not hide her blushes.