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The clerks of Kereshkovsky, offended because the damsels bestowed more attention upon the cabinet than the drawing room, did start a row and tried to enter into a provoking explanation with the students, but Simeon in a moment quelled them with two or three authoritative words, thrown out as though in passing. Niura came back from her room and a little later Petrovsky followed her.
And, with great enjoyment, they begin careering over the room. The nimble Niura, always the first to announce all the news, suddenly jumps down from the window sill, and calls out, spluttering from the excitement and hurry: "A swell carriage...has driven up...to Treppel ...with electricity... Oi, goils...may I die on the spot...there's electricity on the shafts."
"And me a stewdent. He was teaching the master's boys in our place. There, where I was a servant ..." "No, but I ..." exclaimed Niura, but, turning around unexpectedly, remained as she was with her mouth open. Looking in the direction of her gaze, Jennka had to wring her hands.
But why should you hang around by yourself in this here darkness? You'd better go into the cabinet. If you want to, I'll send you beer there. Or, perhaps you want coffee? Or else," and her eyes sparkled slyly, "or else a girlie, perhaps? Tamara is busy, but may be Niura or Verka will do?" "Stop it, Jennie! I came about a serious and important matter, but you ..." "Well, well, I won't, I won't!
"And here's Roly-Poly arrived," announced Niura, when he, having already managed to shake hands amicably with Simeon the porter, stopped in the doorway of the drawing room, lanky, in a uniform cap knocked at a brave slant over one side of his head. "Well, now, Roly-Poly, fire away!"
Platonov got up in silence and went toward the door. "It's not worth while, Sergei Ivanich. Drop it..." Jennie stopped him. "Oh no, why not?" objected the reporter. "I shall do a very simple and innocent thing, take Pasha here, and if need be pay for her, even. Let her lie down here for a while on the divan and rest, even though a little ... Niura, run for a pillow quick!"
Niura suddenly calls after the curly waiter from the dram-shop, who, a light black silhouette, is running across the road. "Oh, Prokhor Ivanich!" "Oh, bother you!" the other snarls hoarsely. "What now?" "A friend of yours sent you his regards. I saw him today." "What sort of friend?" "Such a little good-looker! An attractive little brunet ...No, but you'd better ask where did I see him?"
But he freed himself from under her arm, drawing his head in like a turtle, and she without the least offence went to dance with Niura. Three other couples were also whirling about.
"Well, where?" Prokhor Ivanovich comes to a stop for a minute. "And here's where: nailed over there, on the fifth shelf with old hats, where we keep all dead cats." "Scat! You darn fool!" Niura laughs shrilly over all Yama, and throws herself down on the sill, kicking her legs in high black stockings.
"Oh, for a ride!" squeals Niura. "Oh, uncle! Oh you swell coachman!" she cries out, hanging over the window sill. "Give a poor little girlie a ride... Give us a ride for love."
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