The
house struck cold.
The heirs were dressed fantastically; the general in a dressing-gown
with gold embroideries and tassels; Sergius wore a black hooded coat;
Lina a warm hare-skin jacket, and Katerina, the eldest--the
moustached guardian--a man's thick overcoat, a petticoat and felt
shoes. On all were jewels--rings, ear-rings, bracelets and necklaces.
Sergius remarked ungallantly:
"This is a trying time for us all, and I propose that we divide the
proceeds among us according to the number of consumers."
"I am not one of the heirs," the general hastily interposed.
"I don't share your socialistic views." Constantine informed Sergius
with a cold smile; "I think they should be divided according to the
number of heirs."
A heated argument followed, above which rang the Cathedral bells. At
last, with great difficulty, they came to an agreement. Then Katerina
brought in the samovar. All fetched their own bread and sweet roots
and drank the tea, thankful not to have to prepare it for themselves.
Suddenly--with unexpected sadness and, therefore, unusually well--the
general began to speak:
"When I--a lieutenant-bridegroom--met our Aunt Kseniya for the first
time, she was wearing that bustle that you sold just now. Ah, will
things ever be the same again? If I were told the Bolshevik tyranny
would endure for another year, I should shoot myself! For, good Lord,
what I suffer! How my heart is wrung! And I am an old man.
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