Looking in the direction
of her gaze, Jennka had to wring her hands. In the doorway stood
Liubka, grown thin, with dark rings under her eyes, and, just like
a somnambulist, was searching with her hand for the door-knob, as
a point of support.
"Liubka, you fool, what's the matter with you?' yelled Jennka
loudly. "What is it?"
"Well, of course, what: he took and chased me out."
No one said a word. Jennka hid her eyes with her hands and started
breathing hard, and it could be seen how under the skin of her
cheeks the taut muscles of the jaws were working.
"Jennechka, all my hope is only in you," said Liubka with a deep
expression of weary helplessness. "Everybody respects you so. Talk
it over, dearie, with Anna Markovna or with Simeon ... Let them
take me back."
Jennka straightened up on the bed, fixed Liubka with her dry,
burning, yet seemingly weeping eyes, and asked brokenly:
"Have you eaten anything to-day?"
"No. Neither yesterday, nor to-day. Nothing."
"Listen, Jennechka," asked Vanda quietly, "suppose I give her some
white wine? And Verka meanwhile will run to the kitchen for meat?
What?"
"Do as you know best.
Pages:
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304