"And can we keep them for ourselves?"
At the beginning the attendant at the ticket-office asked in astonishment:
"Why for yourselves?"
"But suppose we think our own costumes the best?" was the reply.
Later the attendant ceased to be astonished at these questions, and being a young man with a sense of humour, said ironically:
"Help yourself! Keep both if you like."
It was dirtyish in the hall, and from the very beginning a number of the crowd were tipsy. In the close rooms, with their smoke-begrimed walls and ceilings, burned crooked lustres; they seemed huge, heavy and stifling. The faded curtains at the doors looked such that one hesitated to brush against them. Here and there knots of people gathered, exclamations and laughter were heard—this was caused by certain costumes which attracted general attention.
The notary Goudayevsky went as an American Indian. He had cock's feathers in his hair, a copper-red mask with absurd green designs on it, a leather jacket, a check plaid over his shoulder, and high leather boots with green tassels. He waved his arms, jumped about, and walked like an athlete, jerking up his naked knees exaggeratedly. His wife was dressed as an ear of corn. She had on a costume of brightly coloured green and yellow patches; ears of corn stuck out from her on every side. They caught everyone she passed and pricked them. She was jostled and pinched as she went along. She said angrily:
"I'll scratch you!"
Everyone near laughed. Some one asked: