“Oh! then, officers are to take part in the concert, are they?” asked Lialia mechanically, thinking all the while of something quite different.
“Why, of course!” exclaimed Schafroff, with a wave of his hand. “Lida has only got to accept, and they’ll all swarm round her like bees. As for Sarudine, he’ll be delighted to sing; it doesn’t matter where, so long as he can sing. This will attract a good many of his brother- officers, and we shall get a full house.”
“You ought to ask Sina Karsavina,” said Lialia, looking wistfully at her brother. “He surely can’t have forgotten,” she thought. “How can he discuss this stupid concert, whilst I …”
“Why, I told you just now we had done so!” replied Schafroff. “Oh! yes, so you did,” said Lialia, smiling faintly. “Then there’s Lida. But you mentioned her I think?”
“Of course I did! Whom else can we ask, eh?”
“I really … don’t know!” faltered Lialia. “I’ve got such a headache.”
Yourii glanced hurriedly at his sister, and then continued to pore over his pamphlets. Pale and heavy-eyed, she excited his compassion.
“Oh! why, why did I say all that to her?” he thought. “The whole question is so obscure, to me, as to so many others, and now it must needs trouble her poor little heart! Why, why did I say that!”
He felt as if he could tear his hair.
“If you please, miss,” said the maid at the door, “Mr. Anatole Pavlovitch has just come.”