"We'd like to have in some way ... don't you know ... a little
private room," he said with delicacy to Emma Edwardovna who had
approached. "And give us some sort of red wine, please ... And
then, some coffee as well ... You know yourself."
Yarchenko always instilled confidence in servants and MAITRES
D'HOTEL, with his dashing clothes and polite but seigniorial ways.
Emma Edwardovna started nodding her head willingly, just like an
old, fat circus horse.
"It can be done ... it can be done ... Pass this way, gentlemen,
into the parlor. It can be done, it can be done ... What liqueur?
We have only Benedictine ... Benedictine, then? It can be done, it
can be done ... And will you allow the young ladies to come in?"
"Well, if that is so indispensable?" Yarchenko spread out his
hands with a sigh.
And at once the girls one after the other straggled into the
parlor with its gray plush furniture and blue lantern. They
entered, extended to every one in turn their unbending palms,
unused to hand-clasps, gave their names abruptly in a low voice--
Manya, Katie, Liuba .
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