"Let's go," answered she, laughing.
She brought him into her room, gotten up with all the
coquettishness of a bedroom in a brothel of the medium sort, with
a bureau, covered with a knit scarf, and upon it a mirror, a
bouquet of paper flowers, a few empty bonbonierres, a powder box,
a faded photograph of a young man with white eyebrows and
eyelashes and a haughtily astonished face, as well as several
visiting cards. Above the bed, which is covered with a pink pique
blanket, along the wall, is nailed up a rug with a representation
of a Turkish sultan luxuriating in his harem, a narghili in his
mouth; on the walls, several more photographs of dashing men of
the waiter and actor type; a pink lantern hangs down from the
ceiling by chains; there are also a round table under a carpet
cover, three vienna chairs, and an enameled bowl with a pitcher of
the same sort in the corner on a tabouret, behind the bed.
"Darling, treat me to Lafitte with lemonade," in accordance with
established usage asked Little Manka, unbuttoning her corsage.
"Afterwards," austerely answered the pedagogue.
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