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No branches of trees hung over the roof and no tree hid the view. The rustic table of rough wood was covered with a short cloth and was spread with zakouskis. It was a meal under the open sky, a seat and a glass in the clear azure. The evening could not have been softer and clearer.
Delighted with his success, Feodor Feodorovitch took up one of the little glasses that Natacha had filled with the vodka she brought. "Listen, my children," said he. "We are going to commence the zakouskis. Koupriane ought to have been here before this."
An old man, with glasses and a long gray beard, evidently the proprietor of the establishment, stood behind the counter, presiding over the zakouskis. Rouletabille chose some little sandwiches which he placed on a plate. He took a bottle of pivo and made the man understand that later, if it were possible, he would like a good hot supper.
"Ah, under the table of zakouskis! I have forbidden them before now to spread a long hanging cloth there, which obliges me to kick my foot underneath casually in order to be sure there is no one beneath. It is imprudent, very imprudent, such table-cloths. And under the table of zakouskis have you been able to see or hear anything?"
They conducted him to the huge main hall, where, however, there was only one person. This man, standing before the table spread with zakouskis, was stuffing himself. At the sound of Rouletabille's step on the floor this sole famished patron turned and lifted his hands to heaven as he recognized the reporter. The latter would have given all the roubles in his pocket to have avoided the recognition.
Tell me first about the earliest attack." "Now," said Matrena, "we must go to dinner." Rouletabille looked at her wide-eyed. "But, madame, what have I just been doing?" Madame Matrena smiled. All these strangers were alike. Because they had eaten some hors-d'oeuvres, some zakouskis, they imagined their host would be satisfied. They did not know how to eat. "We will go to the dining-room.
The life or death of Trebassof did not occupy his mind. Only the acts and movements of the Prefect of Police had power to move him. He ordered a waiting-maid who glided into the apartment without making more noise than a shadow to bring a small stand loaded with zakouskis and bottles of champagne close to the game-table, and he moved one of his pawns, saying, "You will permit me?
Isn't that Asiatic enough for you? Here, a naked woman; there, a corpse! And the jewels and the champagne! What do you say to that?" * The Russian national anthem. "His Excellency the Grand Marshal of the Court is waiting for you, Monsieur." Rouletabille shook hands with Athanase Georgevitch, who returned to his zakouskis, and followed the interpreter to the door of one of the private rooms.
A small glass of vodka for an appetizer. You see, young man, we are going to have zakouskis here. What a marvelous panorama! You can see everything from here. If the enemy comes," he added with a singular loud laugh, "we can't fail to detect him." Certainly the kiosk did rise high above the garden and was completely detached, no wall being near. They had a clear view.
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