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His Majesty's eider downs are of the finest eider, as one of the feathers that you have shown me demonstrates. Well, open them now. They are a cheap imitation, as the second feather proves. The return of the false eider downs, before evening, proves then that they hoped the substitution would pass undetected. That is all. Caracho! Collapse of the hoax. Your health! Vive le Tsar!" "Caracho!
A very celebrated house this. Caracho!" He busied himself to do the honors. One would have said the restaurant belonged to him. He boasted of its architecture and the cuisine "a la Francaise." "Do you know," he inquired confidently, "a finer restaurant room anywhere in the world?"
But then: "Well? Well? Save us! Where are they? Ah, my dear little domovoi-doukh, save the general, for the love of the Virgin!" "Tsst! tsst! Silence." Rouletabille, very pale, but calm, spoke: "The plan is simple. They are between the two staircases, watching the one and the other. I will go and find them and make them mount the one while you descend by the other." "Caracho!
Caracho!" The locomotive was puffing when a couple were seen running, a man and a woman. It was Monsieur and Madame Gounsovski. Gounsovski stood on the running-board. "Madame Gounsovski has insisted upon shaking hands. You are very congenial." "Compliments, madame." "Tell me, young man, you did wrong to fail for dinner at my house yesterday."
He took only time to open the doors, throw a glance into the general's chamber, a single glance, and to return, letting a cry of joy escape him, borrowed from his new and very limited accomplishment of Russian, "Caracho!"
On all-fours he ran like a beast, rapidly and silently, and rose behind the wall of the villa, where he made a turn, reached the gate, aroused the dvornicks and demanded Ermolai, who opened the gate for him. "The Barinia?" he said. Ermolai pointed his finger to the bedroom floor. "Caracho!"
"Caracho!" barked Gounsovski, instantaneously regaining his coolness. "Ah, yes, but you'll not touch him," clamored the spirited girl of the Black Land; "you are not strong enough for that." "I know that monsieur has many friends at court," agreed the chief of the Secret Service with an ominous calm. "I 'don't wish ill to monsieur.
Everything!" she repeated with singular energy. "Because, for me, I cannot feel sure as I should, perhaps. Ah, you make me say these things. Such things! But do not go." "Do not be afraid; I am not going to leave you, madame." "Ah, you are good! You are kind, kind! Caracho! "I will not leave you. But I must not be at luncheon.
There, wrapped in a great red mantle, his hat on his arm, was a man Rouletabille immediately recognized. It was Prince Galitch. They were hurrying to escape the impending pressure of the crowd. But Annouchka as she passed near Natacha stopped just a second a movement that did not escape Rouletabille and, turning toward her said just the one word, "Caracho." Then she passed on.
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