‘I don’t understand what you say,’ he commented at last. ‘Do you suppose I’m a cobbler or a watchmaker? Hey! I’m an officer, an official, so there.’
‘I don’t doubt that——’ Shubin was beginning.
‘What I say is,’ continued the stranger, putting him aside with his powerful arm, like a twig out of the path—‘why didn’t you sing again when we shouted bis? And I’ll go away directly, this minute, only I tell you what I want, this fräulein, not that madam, no, not her, but this one or that one (he pointed to Elena and Zoya) must give me einen Kuss, as we say in German, a kiss, in fact; eh? That’s not much to ask.’
‘Einen Kuss, that’s not much,’ came again from the ranks of his companions, ‘Ih! der Stakramenter!’ cried one tipsy German, bursting with laughter.
Zoya clutched at Insarov’s arm, but he broke away from her, and stood directly facing the insolent giant.
‘You will please to move off,’ he said in a voice not loud but sharp.
The German gave a heavy laugh, ‘Move off? Well, I like that. Can’t I walk where I please? Move off? Why should I move off?’
‘Because you have dared to annoy a lady,’ said Insarov, and suddenly he turned white, ‘because you’re drunk.’
‘Eh? me drunk? Hear what he says. Hören Sie das, Herr Provisor? I’m an officer, and he dares... Now I demand satisfaction! Einen Kuss will ich.’
‘If you come another step nearer——’ began Insarov.