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Azorka began barking outside again. He growled angrily at some one, then howled miserably and dashed with all his force against the wall of the hut. . . . Ananyev's face was puckered with pity; he broke off his story and went out. For two minutes he could be heard outside comforting his dog. "Good dog! poor dog!" "Our Nikolay Anastasyevitch is fond of talking," said Von Schtenberg, laughing.
I was awakened by the barking of Azorka and loud voices. Von Schtenberg with bare feet and ruffled hair was standing in the doorway dressed in his underclothes, talking loudly with some one . . . . It was getting light.
The explanation of this forgiveness of everything lies in my love for Sasha, but what is the explanation of the love itself, I really don't know. THE dog was barking excitedly outside. And Ananyev the engineer, his assistant called Von Schtenberg, and I went out of the hut to see at whom it was barking.
From certain trifles, as for instance, from his coloured worsted girdle, his embroidered collar, and the patch on his elbow, I was able to guess that he was married and in all probability tenderly loved by his wife. Baron Von Schtenberg, a student of the Institute of Transport, was a young man of about three or four and twenty.
So as not to frighten her I first gave a loud sigh and coughed, then cautiously struck a match. . . . There was a flash of bright light in the darkness, which lighted up the weeping figure. It was Kisotchka!" "Marvels upon marvels!" said Von Schtenberg with a sigh.
Stretched on the floor on a cloak, with a leather pillow under his head, the engineer lay asleep with his fleshy, hairy chest uppermost; he was snoring so loudly that I pitied the student from the bottom of my heart for having to sleep in the same room with him every night. "Why on earth are we to take them?" shouted Von Schtenberg. "It has nothing to do with us! Go to Tchalisov!
It's not an embankment, my dear fellow, but a regular Mont Blanc. It's costing millions. . . ." Going into ecstasies over the lights and the embankment that was costing millions, intoxicated by the wine and his sentimental mood, the engineer slapped Von Schtenberg on the shoulder and went on in a jocose tone: "Well, Mihail Mihailitch, lost in reveries?
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