"
The two Tartars looked over the old-fashioned articles, criticised
them, none too well, and fixed the most ridiculous prices. The
general burst out laughing and tried to be witty. Katerina grew
angrier and angrier, until at last she could no longer contain
herself:
"Kirill Lvovich," she shouted, "you are impossible!" "Very well,"
came the infuriated reply; "I am not one of the heirs, I can go!"
They calmed him, however, and then began bargaining with the Tartars,
who slung the old-fashioned articles carelessly over their arms--
laces worked by serfs, antique, hand made candle-sticks, a field-
glass and an acetylene lamp.
The twilight spread gently over the town, and through its dusky,
star-spangled veil, loomed the old Cathedral--reminiscent of Stenka
Razin; now and then came the chime of its deep-toned bells.
The Tartars at length succeeding in striking a bargain, rolled the
goods up into neat little packs with their customary promptitude,
paid out Kerensky notes from their bulging purses and left.
Then the heirs divided the proceeds. They were sitting in the
drawing-room. Blinds covered the low windows; some portraits hung on
the walls, a chandelier was shrouded in a muslin wrapper that had not
been changed for years. A yellow oaken piano was covered with dust,
and the furniture's velvet covering was tarnished and threadbare.
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