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Updated: May 7, 2025
The Count glanced at the back of Akulina's head, which was decently covered by a flattened twist of very shining black hair, and then he looked at Fischelowitz as though to inquire whether the latter would suffer a gentleman to be thus insulted in his presence and on his premises. Fischelowitz seemed embarrassed, and coloured a little.
Akulina had struck the Gigerl such a blow as had sent it flying, pedestal and all, past her husband's head into a dark corner behind the counter. Fischelowitz reddened with anger, and Akulina stood ready to take to flight, glad that the broad counter was between herself and her husband.
"And then, unless the affair is cleared up, they will be kept there all night." "All night!" exclaimed Akulina, holding up her hands in real or affected horror. "Poor Count! He will be quite crazy, now, I fear especially as this is Tuesday evening." "But he must be got out at once!" cried Schmidt in a tone of decision. "Herr Fischelowitz will surely not allow " "No indeed!
"Akulina," said Fischelowitz, thoughtfully, as the door closed, "that man is a gentleman, say what you please." "A pretty gentleman," laughed Akulina, putting the money into the till. "A gentleman indeed why, look at his coat!" "And you are a fool, Akulina," added Fischelowitz, handling his india-rubber stamp.
It was therefore with small prospect of success that the Cossack began his search for Fischelowitz. Only a man who has sought anxiously for another, all through the late evening, in a great city, knows how hopeless the attempt seems after the first hour.
"I do not see what, short of climbing up the flat walls of the house. But I am not a lizard, you know." "We might call. Perhaps they would hear our voices if we called together," suggested Vjera, drawing back into the middle of the street and looking up at the closed windows of the third story. "Herr Fischelowitz!" she cried, in a shrill, weak tone that seemed to find no echo in the still air.
A pair of piercing grey eyes looked through big gold-rimmed spectacles. As he took off his hat, a few thin, sandy-coloured locks fluttered a little and then settled themselves upon the smooth surface of his cranium, like autumn leaves falling upon a marble statue in a garden. "Herr Fischelowitz?" inquired the larger of the two customers, touching his hat but not removing it.
"How long have you known Count Skariatine?" inquired the Consul, carelessly, when he was alone with Fischelowitz. "Six or seven years," answered the latter. "I suppose you know his story? Your wife was good enough to inform us of that fact, though Doctor Grabofsky has reason to doubt the value of her information." "We only know that he calls himself a Count."
And now you have got nothing at all, nothing but that insolent maniac's promise. If I were you I would take the money out of his wages, I would indeed!" "No doubt you would," said Fischelowitz, with sincere conviction. Meanwhile Schmidt had gone into the back shop, where Dumnoff was still doggedly working, making up for the time he had lost by coming late in the morning.
I found him last night, helpless, in a sort of fit, stiff and stark on the floor of his room. And this was in his pocket. Read it, Herr Fischelowitz. Read it, by all means. I suppose your wife does not mind your reading the letters she writes." Fischelowitz took the letter stupidly, turned it over, saw the address, and took out the folded sheet.
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