‘Eh bien? quoi? que me voulez-vous?’
‘Je vous dirai plus tard,’ replied the lady, mincing. With a very unattractive exterior, she was for ever mincing and grimacing. Some wit said of her that she ‘minaudait dans le vide,’ ‘grimaced upon the desert air.’
Irina frowned and shrugged her shoulders impatiently. ‘Mais que fait donc Monsieur Verdier? Pourquoi ne vient-il pas?’ cried one lady with that prolonged drawl which is the peculiarity of the Great Russian accent, and is so insupportable to French ears.
‘Ah, voo, ah, voo, mossoo Verdew, mossoo Verdew,’ sighed another lady, whose birthplace was Arzamass.
‘Tranquillisez-vous, mesdames,’ interposed Ratmirov. ‘Monsieur Verdier m’a promis de venir se mettre à vos pieds.’
‘He, he, he!’—The ladies fluttered their fans.
The waiter brought some glasses of beer.
‘Baierisch-Bier?’ inquired the general with whiskers, assuming a bass voice, and affecting astonishment—‘Guten Morgen.’
‘Well? Is Count Pavel still there?’ one young general inquired coldly and listlessly of another.