“I don’t know, your Excellency.”
“For goodness’ sake, drop ‘your Excellency.’ I am not your superior officer.”
“Yes, your Excel—”
“Idiot!”
But the lady’s manner toward the servant was far friendlier than toward her husband. Semyonov had it in his power to perform important services for her, while the captain had not come up to her expectations.
“Listen, Semyonov, how do you and the doctor’s men get along together? Are you friendly?”
“Yes, your Excellency.”
“Intolerable!” cried the lady, jumping up. “Stop using that silly title. Can’t you speak like a sensible man?”
Semyonov had been standing in the stiff attitude of attention, with the palms of his hands at the seams of his trousers. Now he suddenly relaxed, and even wiped his nose with his fist.
“That’s the way we are taught to do,” he said carelessly, with a clownish grin. “The gentlemen, the officers, insist on it.”