"I have nothing to say," she answered sadly and in a low voice, "You are the Lord here."
"What do you advise me to do?" I repeated growing angry.
"I'll do anything you say," she answered blushing and lowering her head, "I am ready."
"Lucie," I said, "It is not a question of that. You see I cannot put you out on the streets. A good master would not do it to his dog. But, on the other hand they have not yet built the Ritz here."
"I am not asking you to go from your house, Alex. I had for a moment,—when I saw who Syvorotka was—a little ray of sunshine. I see I am mistaken. Could you take me to the depot, then?"
"I shall do nothing of the kind," I answered. "Nobody warned me you might come here. I was not ready. So—please stay here for to-night. I have a place where I can find an abode, and tomorrow we can decide what to do. There is some frozen milk in the pantry and if I don't return—right where you are sitting in the mattress there is some money. Good night, Lucie."
"Alex, are you really going?" she asked taking me by the arm, "Are you really going out just not to be with me? Is it a pose? Or are you serious? Please don't do it…."
"Good night," I said and went out.
27
A night in a small city of Siberia! One can see only because the snow is white. No moon, no electricity…. Where is my new Peugeot now? Who is driving it now? Where is Anton? Whose chauffer is he now, and is he still a chauffer, or has the wheel of fortune turned and made him Commissary of Arts, or Commissary of Public Health? Or, true to his master, was he hanged defending my automobile? Kismet!…