The kitten having had enough began to purr and move its paws affectedly. Zinaïda got up, and turning to the maid said carelessly, “Take it away.”
“For the kitten—your little hand,” said the hussar, with a simper and a shrug of his strongly-built frame, which was tightly buttoned up in a new uniform.
“Both,” replied Zinaïda, and she held out her hands to him. While he was kissing them, she looked at me over his shoulder.
I stood stockstill in the same place and did not know whether to laugh, to say something, or to be silent. Suddenly through the open door into the passage I caught sight of our footman, Fyodor. He was making signs to me. Mechanically I went out to him.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Your mamma has sent for you,” he said in a whisper. “She is angry that you have not come back with the answer.”
“Why, have I been here long?”
“Over an hour.”
“Over an hour!” I repeated unconsciously, and going back to the drawing-room I began to make bows and scrape with my heels.
“Where are you off to?” the young princess asked, glancing at me from behind the hussar.